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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29874309">Good Brother</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/metaphoricheart/pseuds/metaphoricheart'>metaphoricheart</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shameless (US)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Bipolar Disorder, Bipolar Ian Gallagher, Carl Gallagher &amp; Mickey Milkovich Friendship, Carl Gallagher-Centric, Childhood Trauma, Chronic Illness, Family, Family Feels, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Little Brothers, M/M, Not any of the gallaghers, POV Carl Gallagher, Police Officer Carl Gallagher, Protective Older Brothers, Season/Series 11, Self-Discovery, Self-Esteem Issues, Sibling Death, Sick Ian Gallagher, Sickfic, Trauma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:40:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>132,217</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29874309</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/metaphoricheart/pseuds/metaphoricheart</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Carl is usually the last person in his family anyone turns to for support. Ian has a crisis and Mickey turns to Carl for support. Carl realizes he may not be as incapable of taking care of his family as he thinks.</p><p>**Brief mentions of suicide described in dreams. **</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Carl Gallagher &amp; Ian Gallagher, Carl Gallagher &amp; Ian Gallagher &amp; Mickey Milkovich, Carl Gallagher &amp; Liam Gallagher, Carl Gallagher &amp; Lip Gallagher, Carl Gallagher &amp; Mickey Milkovich, Carl Gallagher/Original Character(s), Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>102</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>233</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Part One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>**Brief mentions of suicide described in dreams. Mostly the first line**</p><p> </p><p>So I've never really written about anything with Carl, or his point of view. And I'm not really sure if I have this character right, but as he gets older, he's a pretty decent person. This explores Carl's relationship with his siblings, specifically Ian. This will probably be three parts because right now it's one big blob.</p><p>If this is awful, then oh well. It was fun to write. Thanks for reading.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fiona told him once that it wasn’t nice to have a favorite sibling. But Carl knew he wasn’t and didn’t care to be a particularly nice kid, and ignored her. He’s pretty sure Debbie has had a favorite. Or favorites. She tends to change based on who is responding how she wants. Liam does too. Carl thinks now that Fiona was just jealous that it was never her. It was always Ian.</p><p>At 18 years old, Carl feels kind of bad for her now. She did keep everything together. He was also a kid, and kids tend to resent anyone who bosses them around all the time. He didn’t have a mom to be mad at. At least, not in the sense that she wouldn’t let him stay up late or forced him to brush his teeth. He had plenty of reasons to be mad at his mom. They just had nothing to do with why he slightly resented Fiona as a kid. He knows he loved her, but he was also a snotty kid who put fucking goldfish in the microwave. He hopes she knows now, wherever she is, that he has always loved her.</p><p>Lip was annoying on a different level. Maybe it’s because he felt as the second oldest, he had to take responsibility for things. Carl was also kind of jealous of how smart Lip was. Lip always looked out for him, was always there, but sometimes the dude is just so full of himself. </p><p>Maybe it’s because Carl and Ian are basically smack in the middle of the oldest and youngest why he likes Ian best. He loves his other siblings but he doesn’t always like them. Ian was always the coolest. He looked out for Carl, but he didn’t tell him what to do much. Unless it involved something super dangerous. Ian was super fast and strong. He knew all sorts of stuff about guns and knives, and fighting. Ian hung out with him the most of his older siblings. Probably because he didn’t take on the responsibility of their family in the same way Lip and Fiona did. Ian never lied to him. Ian never forgot about him. Ian was just fun. </p><p>Ian was a hero. Ian was going to do big things and he was a baddass. He still is, those things are just different now. After Ian left for a while, and came back someone Carl didn’t even recognize. Ian didn’t listen to Carl anymore, he just kept talking and talking. Then Ian stopped talking and stopped moving. He was just stuck in that bed, and it terrified Carl. They figured out why Ian was acting so weird. Ian was sick and that just didn’t seem fair to Carl. Ian had plans. None of them were to be crazy, which was the only way he could understand it back then. Ian was crazy. But Carl had figured, crazy or not, he was still Ian. </p><p>Now, he knows Ian definitely isn’t crazy. Carl doesn’t show it much, but watching Ian go up and down with his illness, watching him drift in and out of stability, watching all of Ian’s dreams fall out of his hands one by one… was painful.</p><p>So here is Ian, on the couch, looking terrible as fuck trying to adjust to new meds. This always pissed Carl off. That these meds that are supposed to help his brother, also are so hard on his body. Ian was doing everything right. He took his meds. He went to therapy. He had a routine. He even had Mickey now. He was married to Mickey. None of it was enough. In moments like this, Carl realizes that Ian is sick. Not just occasionally unwell. Ian is sick with a disease that does what it pleases with his older brother, and Ian is just along for the ride trying to make the best of it. </p><p>They were having a movie night. No one had really expected Ian to actually join in, so Carl had invited the latest girl he was into. As soon as he realized Ian was actually downstairs for the day, and talking about the movie, he wanted to do something else so his brother didn’t have a stranger staring at him while he was off his game. Carl had said this to Mickey, and Mickey brushed it off. He told Carl to continue with the original plan, because Ian would eventually find out that Carl had changed his plans because of him and be more upset about that than being seen not at his best.</p><p>So Carl brought the girl, Eva, over. They were watching the movie with Mickey and Ian, and Liam. Ian wasn’t really watching the movie anymore though. He was curled up against Mickey half asleep except when his stomach twisted painfully. Then he would bolt upright and press his shaky hands against his stomach. Eva kept glancing at Ian warily, until Carl saw Mickey shoot her a glare. She kept her eyes on the screen and pressed closer against Carl’s shoulder.</p><p>They had paused the movie because Liam had to go to the bathroom. Even though Liam had already seen this movie, he still insisted that he could not miss any of it so they had to pause it. Carl took the opportunity to restock on beer and snacks, so he grabbed Eva’s hand and brought her to the kitchen. While Carl was fishing around for the bag of chips he’d bought and hidden from everyone, Eva stood next to him awkwardly. </p><p>“So uh, Carl?” She’d said hesitantly. </p><p>Carl found the chips and pulled his hands out of the cabinets. “Yeah?” </p><p>“Uh, is your brother on drugs?” She was biting her lip like she knew she wasn’t supposed to be asking this but couldn’t help herself.</p><p>Carl was genuinely confused. “No? Why?” </p><p>“Well, he kind of just of looks… strung out,” Eva replied.</p><p>Oh. Right. “He’s just sick.” </p><p>Eva said nothing and Carl felt awkward so he continued. “He uh, he has a disease and he’s just not feeling great right now. That’s all.”</p><p>Eva’s eyes got wide, and looked at him with something that looked close to pity. Poor Carl with his poor sick brother. Girls loved that shit. Carl felt a flash of annoyance. </p><p>“Anyway, he’s not some tweaked out junkie that is going to hurt you. So you don’t have to worry about that,” Carl said harshly.</p><p>“Hey that’s not what I meant,” Eva said.</p><p>Carl just shrugged at her and headed back to the living room with the beer and snacks. She followed him hesitantly and kept an inch between them for the rest of the movie. </p><p>At some point, Mickey had muttered, “okay you need to go lay down,” after Ian had grimaced in pain three times in a minute. They’d gone upstairs. LIam was still watching the movie, but went to take the unoccupied space on the couch. </p><p>Eva glanced at Carl’s younger brother. He seemed pretty into the movie so she put her hand on Carl’s thigh. He looked away from the screen startled. </p><p>“Is it cancer? That must be so rough for you,” she said sweetly. Carl stood up to get away from her. </p><p>“No. It’s not my business to tell and it’s not your business to ask,” Carl spat. He was slightly surprised at himself. He always just let girls do whatever they wanted for the most part with him, even if he didn’t like it. But this girl who didn’t even know his family, was trying to pry into their business as if they needed pity. Fuck that. </p><p>Carl walked to the door where Eva’s jacket was hung up, and handed it to her. “You should go,” he said quietly. </p><p>“Wow, seriously? Excuse me for caring,” Eva said. She pulled the coat on angrily. Carl just opened the door silently and let her storm out. </p><p>Liam looked up from the movie and asked, “Is that how a girl will try to get in your pants?” </p><p>Carl huffed a sarcastic laugh and threw himself onto the sofa. “One of the ways,” muttered. </p><p>Liam looked Carl up and down before settling on saying, “She was weird.” </p><p>Carl hummed in agreement and went back to watching the movie. Liam reached over and poked him a little. His eyes were wide and he looked even younger than he already was. “Uh, is Ian gonna be okay?” Liam asked, fearfully.</p><p>Shit. Sometimes Carl forgot how young Liam was and how much he didn’t know about Ian because he’d been too young to understand or remember. Carl realized he was taking too long to answer and Liam’s eyes were starting to water. Carl pulled Liam into his side in a rough hug. “Yeah. He is always okay. Don’t worry,” Carl said, trying to sound reassuring.</p><p>Liam looked at him in that way he always does where it’s like he’s scanning you for information. Liam’s eyebrows crinkled a bit in irritation. “You’re worried though,” He said to Carl.</p><p>Carl shrugged. He wasn’t very good at the emotional side of being an older brother. He beat up punks and showed Liam tricks. But it’s not like LIam had anyone else to turn to, and it wasn’t an unreasonable thing to ask from your brother. </p><p>Carl forced himself to smile and pucnh Liam in the arm lightly. “I’d be a pretty shitty brother if I wasn’t worried, right?”</p><p>“I guess,” Liam said, not sounding entirely convinced. </p><p>Carl studied his younger brother for a few seconds. “Well, do you want me to tell you it’s all going to be okay even though no one knows that? Which doesn’t mean it won’t be okay, I just can’t tell you something I don’t know.” </p><p>“No,” LIam said. He laughed a little in relief. “I’d rather not be lied to like a little kid.” </p><p>“Okay then,” Carl smiled. He pulled Liam’s head closer to press a light kiss on the top like Lip used to do him when he was younger. Carl isn’t much of a cuddler with his siblings, but Liam doesn’t make any move to get out from underneath Carl’s side hug. And since Carl can’t really give Liam anything to help the situation, he lets Liam stay there.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Part Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Carl helps Mickey take Ian to the hospital.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>***This is not certifiably medically accurate at all***</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was now around 9 in the morning, and Carl was standing outside Ian and Mickey’s room talking to Mickey. Mickey was nervously running his hands over his face and hair. His hair was standing up. </p><p>“I called again, and the doctor told me this was normal and to wait it out another week. Another fucking week. Look at him!” Mickey gestured towards the door. “Does he look like he can wait it out another week?”</p><p>Carl glanced at his brother who was curled up on top of the blankets in bed. He was deathly pale, his hair was greasy and hanging in front of his eyes. Ian’s hands were shaking and his face was set in a permanent grimace. He looked like he was dying. Carl shuddered at that thought. </p><p>“No, he doesn’t,” Carl said, turning back to Mickey.</p><p>“”There was a little bit of blood in his fucking puke a few minutes ago. He’s gotta go to a hospital man. Like a real hospital with people who know what the fuck they’re doing. Not the clinic for all of us poor people with this doctor that keeps telling me this is normal. Fuck,” Mickey muttered. He pushed his hands against his eyes to try to keep his tears from falling.</p><p>Carl glanced between Ian and Mickey. It was like Mickey was waiting for Carl to give the go ahead to take Ian to the hospital, or at least validate that it would be the right thing to do. Carl almosts laugh because someone is looking to him for support, and it’s Mickey Fucking Milkovich. </p><p>“I think he should go,” Carl said confidently. </p><p>Mickey looked slightly relieved. “Okay,” he muttered mostly to himself, “okay.” He went back into this bedroom and was pacing as if he couldn’t figure out what to do next. </p><p>Mickey was always so calm and strong for this shit, and now he’s choosing Carl of all people to break down in front of. Looking at Ian, and hearing him get sick all night, Carl can see why Mickey can’t hold it together anymore. Ian looked dead. With a jolt, Carl realized he had to be the one to keep the level head here for his family for once. Him, the least sharp tool in the Gallagher shed. Ian never agreed that Carl was stupid, but it seemed like everyone he met told him he just kinda… accepted it. He couldn’t remember a time where he’d ever been in a position of control for his family. He was nervous as hell, but Mickey was just fucking pacing looking a bit wild, so someone had to at least try.</p><p>“I can go with you,” Carl offers. </p><p>Mickey slumps on the bed and sighs in relief. He glances up at Carl. “Yeah?”</p><p>Carl shrugs. “Yeah. Just give me a few minutes to take care of some shit.” </p><p>Mickey nods and stares at Ian.</p><p>“Might want to put him in actual clothes, dude,” Carl said motioning to Ian just being in a pair of ratty boxers. </p><p>With something to do, Mickey jumped up and started pulling out clothes for Ian. Carl went down into the kitchen and pulled out his phone. After he called out of work, which took less than 5 minutes, Carl just stood there blankly. He didn’t know what to do. Someone would probably make fun of him for it later but he googled “what to bring to hospital ER”. He read the list and started whirling around the kitchen. He yanked a charger out of an outlet and threw it into a backpack. He thought it might be Debbie’s but she’d just have to get over it. He grabbed some water bottles and gatorade, and whatever snacks were in reach, and threw them all in the bag.</p><p>He rushed upstairs. Mickey had Ian mostly dressed but was having trouble with his shoes. Carl looked around and threw a pair of slides at Mickey who looked like he was cursing himself for being an idiot.</p><p>“You got an insurance card or any paperwork info that you need to bring for him?” Carl asked. </p><p>Mickey nodded and motioned to Carl to come over and continue to help Ian sit up right. Mickey grabbed some stuff out of Ian’s wallet. He pulled open a drawer on their nightstand and pulled out a folder. Mickey grabbed his own wallet and put whatever he’d taken from Ian’s into his. He thrust the folder at Carl. Carl took it and added it to the bag. </p><p>“We got everything?” Carl asked. </p><p>“Think so,” Mickey replied. “But uh,” Mickey scratched his eyebrow. “Do you think you can put on your uniform… it might be an uh, influencer if we’ve gotta push them?” </p><p>Carl smirked. “You got it,” he told Mickey. He quickly changed.</p><p>After a few false starts, Carl and Mickey figured the best way to get Ian downstairs was someone hold his shoulders, and someone hold his feet. So they marched outside awkwardly dragging Ian with him. Carl went to Kev’s car and pulled out the keys.</p><p>“Kev okay with you doing that?” Mickey asked.</p><p>“I got the keys don’t I?” Carl said. “I’ll text him when we get there. If he needs it I’ll bring it back.” Carl unlocked the car and Mickey swept Ian up bridal style and put him in the back seat. Mickey climbed in next to him and buckled Ian in. Carl got in the car, started it, and hit the gas. </p><p>Mickey was murmuring things to Ian in the back, but Ian wasn’t responding at all. His eyes were barely open. Carl gripped the steering wheel tighter, trying to distract himself from the panic churning in his stomach.</p><p>They finally got to the ER. Mickey carried Ian the short distance bridal style again, and then dumped him in the nearest chair. Carl and MIckey went up to the desk to check in. The receptionist glanced at Carl in the cop uniform, and then back at Ian who looked like shit. There were other people waiting. Carl watched her look at Mickey’s tattooed knuckles. Carl made a show of adjusting his sleeves while clearing his throat. They somehow got someone to take Ian back to an examination room with both Carl and Mickey following a few minutes later.</p><p>A nurse listened to Mickey give a quick run down of the situation while she hooked Ian up to monitors that would watch his vitals. She frowned at something, and scribbled it down on a clipboard. She looked over at Carl and Mickey, asking “who are you to the patient?” </p><p>Carl spoke for them, putting on his most respectful sounding cop voice. “I’m his brother, Carl, ma’am. And this is his husband, Mickey.”  </p><p>The nurse just nodded. She took out a small flash light and pulled Ian’s eye lid up and shined it into his eyes. Ian flinched and muttered “shit.” </p><p>The nurse smiled. She glanced at Mickey who looked like she had just tried to kill his husband. “That’s a good thing. He is instinctually responsive. Our instincts are to close our eyes to bright lights.” </p><p>Mickey nodded and sat back with his arms crossed. She smiled gently at Mickey again, but he didn’t seem to respond to it. It didn’t put him at ease.</p><p> She sighed. “Okay, so from what I can gather from looking at him and what you’re telling me, he's extremely dehydrated. So I’m going to set up some saline solution IV and push some tylenol in it until we can get a bigger picture of what’s going on.” </p><p>She quickly left and came back, and set Ian up. “Give it a bit and he should start to perk up a little. A doctor will come around shortly.” </p><p>“Thank you,” Carl said and smiled at her. Mickey just nodded to her. </p><p>“You good?” Carl asked Mickey. Mickey nodded. Carl clapped him on the knee once and stood up. “I’m gonna go tell Kev we have his truck and let everyone know where we are.” </p><p>Carl sighed and went into the hallway and walked down it. No one questioned his presence. He texted Kev and saw a nurse go back into Ian’s room. He went over to check everything was okay and she was saying something about blood tests, so Carl went back away from the room. </p><p>He knew he should probably call them, but that would take fucking forever and it would just be faster to drop it in the group text. Someone will end up calling him anyway. </p><p>TO: Lip, Debbie, Liam, Kev, Vee<br/>11am: Ian is in the hospital. Mickey and I took him.</p><p>Carl was about to close out of the screen when he realized that saying Ian in the hospital could mean he was in the psych ward.</p><p>11:01: Not the psych ward. </p><p>As Carl expected, LIP was flashing across his screen barely a minute later. He picked up the call. </p><p>“What the fuck happend?” Lip asked. “Is he gonna be okay?” </p><p>“That new med combo the gave him earlier in the week made him sick as fuck. Like all he’s done is puke and his stomach and head are killing him. He can’t keep anything down. He’s shaky and sweaty. He hasn’t been able to sleep. The doctor at the clinic said to give it a few more days before worrying but Ian looked pretty awful so MIckey decided to bring him to the hospital. They’re giving him some fluids and doing a blood test, that’s all I know.” </p><p>He heard Lip breathe out into the phone. “Fuck.” </p><p>“Yeah,” Carl agreed. </p><p>“Well Tami and I were heading back from visiting her parents today anyway so I’ll be over there as soon as I can. Okay?” </p><p>“Okay,” Carl replied. “I think it’s being handled though.” </p><p>“Yeah, you got this,” Lip reassured. Carl smiled. “What about Mickey?” Lip asked anxiously. </p><p>“Uh the dude is a fucking mess. He’s like five seconds from losing it. And not the angry kind of losing it,” Carl said. “I don’t really know what to do with him. It’s like he can’t decide anything himself right now. Has to be told what to do.” </p><p>Lip sighed. “Yeah, well, after a while your body can only take so much stress before it starts checking out on you.” </p><p>Tami’s voice floated in from the background “What’s going on?” </p><p>“Look, I gotta go, but keep me updated”,: Lip said and hung up.</p><p>Carl walked back into Ian’s room. Mickey was standing next to the bed  Carl sat back down. “Anything?” </p><p>MIckey nodded. “Uh, they’re gonna take him for a CT scan in a few minutes. They sedated him a bit so he doesn’t wake up and freak out while he’s in there.” </p><p>Carl nodded and watched Mickey run his fingers through Ian’s hair.</p><p>“He hates being sedated,” Mickey muttered. He sighed and stood up a little straighter as if he was readying himself. “But it’s gotta be done, or he’s gonna hurt himself inside that machine because he’ll wake up and be confused as fuck where he is. He will be confused as fuck where he is once he’s more lucid.” </p><p>Carl just nodded. He didn’t really know what to say to that. A group of nurses came in to take Ian to his CT scan. They informed Carl and Mickey that they would need to go wait in the waiting room now. Mickey looked ready to blow, but Carl had squeezed his shoulder hard, said thank you, and pushed him out of the room. </p><p>When they got to the waiting room, Mickey glared at him. Carl shrugged in apology. “They need to just focus on Ian while they examine him. Isn’t this what they usually do in hospitals?” </p><p>Mickey nodded but was still sulking. Carl rolled his eyes and pulled out a water bottle and a granola bar. He handed them to Mickey. Mickey gave Carl back the granola bar. “Those things taste like ass. Ian is the only one who likes them.” <br/>Carl smirked. “Well you too would know what ass tastes like.”</p><p> A ghost of a smile crossed Mickey’s face and he muttered, “shut up”. </p><p>Carl opened the bar and took a bite, and concluded that yes, it tasted like ass. He dug around some more and threw a bag of pretzels at Mickey. Mickey opened them and stared into space eating them and drinking his water. At least Carl didn’t have to fight with Mickey to eat because that sounded like a battle from hell. Carl drank his own water and waited.</p><p>About an hour and half later Carl wished he could sedate Mickey too, when someone came out and called for “Ian Gallagher.” The woman motioned for them to come back into the same room as before. Ian was asleep but looked significantly less pale. Carl and Mickey sat down.</p><p>Mickey’s knee was bouncing up and down. “Well?” He shot at the doctor.</p><p>She smiled. “I’m Dr. Swan and after consulting with one of our psychiatrists, we’re pretty certain that this is a bad drug reaction but he’s going to be okay.”</p><p>MIkey’s leg slowed down slightly. The two men kept staring at her so she continued. “He went to the clinic on Race Street and they prescribed him Ziprasidone?” She glanced up at Mickey for confirmation.</p><p>“Yeah,” Mickey confirmed. </p><p>The doctor flipped through a chart. “According to his records, they’d only tried anticonvulsants for long term maintenance. Usually when a patient starts on a real antipsychotic, they start with Clozapine, but it seems like they jumped the lighter meds to the more hard hitting ones without trying.”</p><p>“So what’s that mean?” Mickey asked and bit his nails. </p><p>“Well first, it means Ian should probably see a different psychiatrist in the future,” Dr. Swan replied.</p><p>“Yeah, no fucking shit,” Mickey retorted.</p><p>“And second, it means he wasn’t put through regular protocol of staring light and small. They prescribed the highest dose of Ziprasidone. So coupled with a bad interaction with his other medications, and the fact that Ian’s body was just suddenly flooded with a drug it never had a chance to get used to slowly, it’s what has made him pretty sick,” she explained.</p><p>“You said that doctor told you to give it more time?” She asked again for confirmation.</p><p>“Yeah,” Mickey said. “But he looked pretty awful. I don’t think he could have waited.” </p><p>Dr. Swan smiled at him. “You did the right thing,” she reassured him. “It really would have been potentially fatal if he didn’t get treatment within a few days. A body can only handle so much stress and lack of nutrients.” </p><p>“Fuck,” Mickey muttered. </p><p>“He’s going to be okay,” she reassured him again. “He’s responding well to the fluids and we’re going to add some nutrients to the IV. He’s gonna need to be on them for a while though. And it’s probably best if he’s kept a full 24 hours to make sure things are going okay. The drug won’t be out of his system for a few days, but not adding more and counteracting it’s effects will definitely be beneficial.” </p><p>Mickey looked nervous. “Full 24 hours? Like in a psych ward?” </p><p>“When Ian wakes up, he’ll talk to the psychiatrist. He’ll figure out what to do with Ian’s meds and make that decision but if Ian hadn’t been showing signs of wanting to hurt himself or others and continued to not show those signs, it’s probably likely that they’ll just keep him in here to monitor him.” </p><p>“So he’s going to be okay?” Carl asked just to confirm for himself directly.</p><p>“Yes, officer,” the doctor responded. She flipped his chart closed and stood up. “Someone will replenish his IV with the additions soon. He will probably wake up within the next 2 hours. When he does, hit the call button. They are low on staff in the psych unit today, so it’s best if they're notified right away so there isn’t an even longer wait. I’ve got to move on to my next patient, but use the call button if you need anything.” She briskly walked out the door and they heard her open and close the examination room across for Ian’s. </p><p> </p><p>Mickey sighed and sat forward in the chair with his back slumped and his elbows on his knees. He put his head in his hands and just stayed there. </p><p>“Uh Mick?” Carl said.</p><p>“Mhm?”</p><p>“Go take a walk or have a smoke or something,” Carl told him. The dude had been around this all day everyday all week. The least he can do is give Mickey a break.</p><p>Mickey looked apprehensively at Ian sleeping in the bed. “What if he wakes up? He’s gonna be fucking terrified when he wakes up, I have to be there.” </p><p>“Dude, I really don’t think he’s going to wake up for a while. You’ll be fine if you go for like 15 minutes, and if it changes I’m here and I’ll call you.” </p><p>MIckey shook his head and settled back into the seat, bouncing his leg again.</p><p>“Okay, seriously, Mickey, get out of here,” Carl said in exasperation. “You’re driving me nuts with that leg.” </p><p>Mickey looked startled at him. Carl smirked to let him know that he really wasn’t upset with Mickey. They got into a staring match where Carl just raised his eyebrows and increased the intensity of his gaze. Mickey finally nodded. “Yeah, okay,” Mickey said quietly. </p><p>He looked back at Ian. </p><p>“Hey, he’s not going to wake up for a while and I’ll call you if he does. And he’s not gonna wake up alone because I’ll be here,” Carl reassured Mickey. “Now get the fuck out. Follow police instructions, sir.” </p><p>Mickey snorted and laughed lightly as he left the room.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Part Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Carl has a lot of unexpected feelings and meets a girl. Because this is Carl we're talking about.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I thought this fic was gonna be short but now it's 24 pages long and I'm still writing. So I'm gonna post this as Part Three, and there will probably be more. Whoops.</p><p>Also yeah, Carl meets a girl because doesn't he always wherever he ends up on the show? Seriously.</p><p>Thanks for reading.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As soon as Mickey was gone, Carl slumped all the way down into the chair. “Holy fucking shit, your husband is a pain in the ass,” Carl told a sleeping Ian. </p><p>Carl took out his phone and winced at all the missed calls and texts from everyone but Lip. He went back into the group chat and wrote, “He’s going to be ok. Bad drug reaction. Might be here until tomorrow.” </p><p>He immediately got a FaceTime call from Liam, and swore. Liam was still a kid in all of this and last night he had been scared. He’d probably been terrified for the last few hours with little information about his older brother. Fuck. Carl should have thought of that. Lip would have thought of that. Ian would have too. Carl accepted the call.</p><p>Liam’s tear-filled but angry face filled his screen. Before Carl could say anything Liam burst out, “Fuck you. I’ve been going crazy. I’m hiding from Debbie in my room because she’s losing her shit and fawning all over Franny like she’s a doll.”</p><p>Carl’s mouth dropped into an “o”. As far as he knew Liam had never used the f bomb before. And it didn’t really matter that he said it, it mattered because it showed how upset Liam was.</p><p>“Shit, I’m sorry, man.” Carl told him remorsefully. “I’m so sorry. I just got caught up here and I forgot to check back in with anyone, and holy shit I’m sorry.” Carl ran a shaking hand through his hair. </p><p>Liam titled his head and considered him. “It’s okay,” he forgave simply. “But are… are you okay?” </p><p>No, Carl thought, I’m not fucking okay. I can’t do this. I can’t keep everyone together. I can’t play strong brother and I can’t play older brother. I can’t do it. Ian could do this. </p><p>That thought made it worse because Ian would have been there for Carl without falling apart, and he can’t even return the damn favor.</p><p>“Carl?” Liam prompted again. He looked at him concerned. Carl realized he hadn’t answered him.</p><p>He was definitely not going to dump all of that onto Liam so he shook himself. “Uh yeah. This shit just sucks.” He smiled at Liam.</p><p>Liam made a disgusted face. “You look like the grinch when you smile like that. It’s creepy,” he told Carl. </p><p>Carl huffed a laugh with a genuine smile. Liam smiled back at him. “Are you okay?” Carl asked Liam.</p><p>“No but I’m dealing,” Liam said.</p><p>“Sorry,” Carl said, feeling guilty again about not checking in with Liam. Liam rolled his eyes. “Just try to actually keep us updated over here from now on?” Liam said. “Please,” he desperately added.</p><p>“Yeah, definitely. Ian is going to be fine though, got it?” </p><p>“Yeah,” Liam said like he was still unsure. There really wasn’t anything Carl could do about that until Liam could see Ian with his own two eyes. </p><p>“Okay, I’m gonna go. I will do better this time,” Carl said.</p><p>“Okay. Bye,” Liam said and then hesitantly said quietly, “Love you.” </p><p>Carl raised his eyebrows. That was another thing Carl didn’t usually do. Lip could run around professing his love all he wants, but Carl doesn’t think it’s got to be announced all the damn time. </p><p>“Yeah, you too, buddy,” Carl said softly.</p><p>--</p><p>Mickey came back about 15 minutes later with two cups of coffee in his hand. Carl was surprised he’d been gone that long. He thought he’d have to herd Mickey back out. He handed Carl a cup. Carl muttered, “thanks,” savoring the warmth around his hands. He took a sip and grimaced.</p><p>Mickey sat heavily in a chair next to him. “Yeah it’s pretty bad. I got it out of a vending machine. Didn’t know they put fucking coffee that comes out hot in vending machines now.”</p><p>“Whole new world out there,” Carl said in a mock sage voice. Mickey smiled. </p><p>It seemed like whatever Mickey had gone to do for 15 minutes had helped him because he seemed much calmer, and was receptive to a tiny bit of the usual banter Carl and Mickey had. Mickey kept forcing himself to drink the coffee while Carl just held it between his hands, and leaned his head back on the wall.</p><p>“You alright?” Mickey said next to him. </p><p>Carl sat up and stared at Mickey. Why would Mickey be asking <i>him</i> this? He’s not the one with his husband looking like road kill because he had an idiot doctor...but that is Carl’s brother…<br/>
“What?” Carl responded.</p><p>“Do you not speak English anymore?” Mickey said gruffly. “Are you okay?”  </p><p>Carl shrugged. “Yeah, I’m fine.” After a beat he looked at Mickey and said, “Are <i>you okay</i>?” </p><p>Mickey rubbed his eyebrow with his thumb. “Better.” </p><p>Carl gave Mickey a small smile and resumed this earlier position with his head against the wall. He could see Mickey looking at him like he wanted to say something. He opened his mouth a few times but closed it. Whatever it was, Carl would probably hear it later. They sat in silence for a while when the heart monitor gave a small beep indicating a change in heart rate. Ian was waking up.</p><p>Mickey bolted out of his chair and was standing next to Ian’s bed. Ian opened his eyes. Carl watched them dart around the room, panicking, until Mickey stuck his face into Ian’s line of vision. </p><p>“Hey, you’re okay,” Mickey said gently, holding Ian’s hand. Ian looked at him skeptically. “We took you to the hospital, you weren’t doing too good.” </p><p>Ian’s eyes widened and started to look around the room as if he could find an exit. “Hey,” Mickey said again. “You’re not locked up in a psych ward. Just a normal room.” </p><p>Ian spoke for the first time, mumbling, “no.”<br/>
Carl watched Mickey continue to soothe Ian. “I’m here and Carl’s here.” Carl took that as an instruction to get into Ian’s line of vision. “We wouldn’t be allowed in the psych ward like this, right?” </p><p>Ian stared at Carl and then his eyes shot back to Mickey. He nodded and relaxed some. “Mickey,” Ian simply stated.</p><p>Carl was pretty sure Mickey was crying. “I’m right here, firecrotch.” </p><p>Carl turned away. The way Mickey had said that so tenderly was too much and Carl felt like he was intruding. He hit the call button so they’d know Ian was awake.</p><p>A nurse quickly came and motioned for Carl to move away from the bed. He watched the nurse check over Ian while Mickey had to keep soothing him to keep him calm. The nurse looked sympathetically at Mickey. She turned to Carl too before going back to Mickey. “He’s a little out of it right now so his anxiety is nothing to worry about.”</p><p>“Yeah, no fucking shit,” Mickey muttered. </p><p>The nurse just smirked at Mickey’s comment. “He looks good. We’ll give him a bit to become more lucid. We’ll give him some water and crackers to try holding down. The psychiatrist knows Ian is awake and will be down as soon as he can."</p><p>A different nurse came in with a cup like the kind you’d get at McDonalds with a lid and a straw. She put some packs of crackers down on the table tray. “Try water first, take it slow.” </p><p>Mickey just nodded mutely. Carl quietly said, “thanks” to the nurse as she left. </p><p>Carl was unsure if he should go back to near the bed so he decided to push a chair for Mickey to sit near the bed. Carl went back to the other chair away from the bed. Mickey was petting Ian’s head and whispering something Carl couldn’t hear to him. It was calm and quiet.</p><p>A few minutes later, Ian jerked a little bit and tried to sit up. “Woah,” Mickey said, helping him sit up. Ian looked around the room and then down at his arms with the IV. <i>“What… the… fuck,”</i> Ian said slowly. </p><p>Carl couldn’t help himself and started laughing. Mickey did too. “There you are,” Mickey said. Ian looked bewildered at the fact that Mickey and Carl were laughing at him. </p><p>“How are you feeling?” MIckey asked Ian.</p><p>Ian crinkled his eyebrows in confusion that it was comical. Carl had to cover his mouth and look away so he wouldn’t start laughing again. Now that Ian was awake and talking, it was like a snake had slithered out of his stomach. Everything Ian did was just so <i>Ian</i> that Carl wanted to just laugh for a while. Obviously, Ian would act like Ian, but Carl wasn’t sure how this was going to go and the fact that Ian is awake and acting as ridiculous as ever without realizing it made affectionate bubbles in his throat that he wanted to laugh out.</p><p>“Better?” Ian said like it was a question and he was testing their response. Carl came over and Ian said, “hey man.” Carl gave him a nod in response.</p><p>“Are you still nauseous? Does anything hurt? What do you need?" Mickey bombarded him with questions.</p><p>“Jesus, Mickey. I just woke up,” Ian said, irritated. “I don’t know.” </p><p>Mickey looked slightly embarrassed and sat back a bit in the seat. Carl couldn’t help and started laughing again because that was just so <i>Mickey and Ian</i> and Ian was fine. </p><p>Once Carl started laughing though, he couldn’t stop. It was like all the bubbles were bursting out of his mouth and popping. Ian and Mickey stared at him. Carl kept waving his hand in apology. He felt his laughter start to turn into crying. Shit. </p><p>“I’ll be back guys,” Carl said quickly without looking at them, and walked briskly out of the room. Once he was like a foot away from the room, it was like he was made of bricks. He couldn’t move and his eyes were tearing up so much he couldn’t see what was in front of him. He leaned against a wall. </p><p>“Uh, is he okay?” Carl heard Ian ask.</p><p>“Uh, I think he’s a bit overwhelmed but he will be fine,” Mickey responded. </p><p>Carl wanted to start laughing again and was suddenly able to propel himself out of the building and sat on one of the benches. Would he be fine? Because like Ian had just said… <i>what… the… fuck</i>. He didn’t know how Fiona and Lip always dealt with this kind of shit from all 5 of the rest of them. He never realized how fucking hard it was to suddenly have to be the one to keep it together and get things going. Fiona and Lip had always made it look easy, but that was probably the perception of a child and Carl was not a child anymore.</p><p>His mind went to an image of Ian scolding Carl for putting another toy in the microwave while trying not to laugh. Then it flashed back to Ian curled up in a ball on his bed while Mickey panicked. Fuck. Carl was actually crying now. He hated crying. A few tears for a few minutes was fine. Whatever, sometimes it happens. But he was crying with his whole chest. He couldn’t get himself to stop. It just kept going. He was breathing hard, and all he wanted to do was just stop crying already. </p><p>He took in a huge gulp of air while gasping and was reminded of that exaggerated breathing Lip always did Debbie when she had a panic attack as a kid. He sucked in large breaths in and out until he calmed down. He was still crying but just silently, he wasn’t gasping huge sobs out that he realized probably everyone had watched him do as they walked by.</p><p>Holy shit! He had just lost his mind in public while in uniform. He must have looked fucking ridiculous. A cop is supposed to be cool and collected. Carl could feel himself turning red with embarrassment and started fumbling with the buttons of his uniform shirt. He pulled it off and shoved it into the backpack he had somehow remembered to grab while booking it earlier. He took a deep breath. Calmer now he just was a normal person with a normal black shirt with navy blue pants. He pulled his police badge out of his pockets and shoved that in the backpack too.</p><p>Alright. Pull yourself together Gallagher. What’s the next tactic? Strategize. Military school had to be good for something.</p><p>He pulled out his cell phone and texted his family an update. He didn’t get any panicked face time calls from Liam. He glanced at the time and it was 3 and it was definitely not even close to 3 when he came out here. Fuck!</p><p> A text came through.</p><p>From: Mickey 3:02pm<br/>
Hey don’t know where you are but do you mind staying there while we talk to the shrink? </p><p>To Mickey 3:03pm<br/>
No problem</p><p>From Mickey 3:30<br/>
thx text when u when done</p><p>Carl pictured a psychiatrist coming in and Mickey rushing to finish texting. He breathed a sigh of relief he didn’t even know he was holding. Carl realized he was happy he didn’t have to sit through the shrink evaluation shit. It made him feel uncomfortable, especially since it was Ian. He could watch his brother puke and get treated no problem, but he didn't think he could have bared sitting listening to a psychiatrist analyze his older brother into all these technical terms and dosages. Breaking him down into cold words from a text book. </p><p>When Ian first got diagnosed, he remembered Lip and Fiona having hushed conversations in the kitchen full of terms and medication names. They also kept saying <i>Monica. Monica, Monica, Monica.</i> Carl hadn’t gotten it. He still doesn’t honestly. Ian isn’t Monica so why weren’t they talking about Ian? </p><p>He realized now they were talking about Ian but they made him into a caricature. Carl remembered feeling like no one talked about Ian in normal words and no one talked to Ian in normal words either. Except for Carl because what else was there to say? Ian could always tell him stuff that was way more interesting than whatever Fiona and Lip were talking about. Lip had come around faster about realizing Ian was not Monica. Fiona was still kind of stuck in the middle. It made Ian sad which made Carl pissed off, but Fiona wasn’t here anymore.</p><p>So no, he really didn’t want to go listen to a shrink talk about his cool big brother like that. </p><p>He’d basically stopped crying but his nose was running like crazy. He wiped his nose without realizing it on his bare wrist since he wasn’t wearing a long sleeve shirt anymore. He glanced up and startled. There was a girl, well he guessed probably a woman, who was incredibly fucking beautiful that Carl forgot that it was weird she was standing there in the first place for a few seconds. He blinked, and looked at her. </p><p>“Uh, hi,” the girl said awkwardly. “You looked like you could use a tissue.” She pulled a package of tissues from her pocket. Carl felt his brain just slowing down to a halt. He was so tired and so overwhelmed and now there’s this girl in front of him…  </p><p>“Oh,” Carl said dumbly. </p><p>The girl laughed nervously. “Beats using your wrist.” </p><p>Carl turned bright red at realizing this girl had been watching him wipe his snot all over his wrists like a toddler. He accepted the issue she held out. “Thanks,” he muttered. He smiled at her and hoped it didn’t look like the grinch. </p><p>The girl shifted on her feet and was rubbing her hand on her wrist. “Uh, no problem.” </p><p>Some little part of Carl’s brain must have kicked in because he said, “I’m Carl.” He glanced down at his hand. “I’d hold my hand out but it’s covered in snot.” </p><p>The girl laughed. “I’m Slyvia.” She glanced at the space next to Carl and Carl waved for her to sit. </p><p>She pulled her black hair into a ponytail while she stared straight ahead with bright blue eyes. “So uh, you come out here to cry too?” Carl said.</p><p>He cringed at his horrible attempt at conversation. He was about to say sorry but Sylvia turned to look at him. She smiled. “Oh no,” she said. “My sister just had a baby.” </p><p>“Congrats,” Carl said.</p><p>“Thanks,” she said. “But uh, she’s still arguing with her boyfriend over the name even though their kid is right there…” She trailed off and laughed sarcastically. “So, I came out here so I didn’t have to listen to them.” </p><p>Carl laughed. “Yeah, sounds like a good choice.” </p><p>“Yeah,” she agreed. She kept smiling at him and he hoped he was smiling back. She glanced down and said, “Uh I guess you’re not out here to escape your sister’s baby drama?” </p><p>Carl’s smile slipped. "Well no, but I’ve had my fair share of escaping my sister’s baby drama.” </p><p>Slyvia looked down and was twisting her hands. “So uh, you don’t have to tell me, but is whoever is in there going to be okay?” </p><p>“My brother,” Carl said. Slyvia glanced up and looked relieved she hadn’t just crossed out of bounds. She looked at him kindly, like she actually cared about this dude she just met five minutes ago. “And yeah, he’s gonna be okay,” Carl said exhaling. “Most likely,” he added. He didn’t want to have put those words out into the universe for the universe to come back around and shit on him. </p><p>She nodded. “I really hope so,” she told Carl. They were staring into each other’s eyes like lovesick teenagers in a bad romance movie. A ding came from Slyia’s phone. She shook herself, turning red, and read the text.</p><p>“Ah shit, I gotta go back to the drama. Apparently, my opinion is needed,” she said, rolling her eyes. </p><p>Carl huffed a soft laugh. “Well, good luck with that.” </p><p>“Thanks!” Slyvia said brightly and didn’t move. Carl watched her take a deep breath. “So uh, you can keep these, but mind if you write your number on one?” She handed him the tissue packet.</p><p>Carl almost started laughing hysterically again but he kept it together. “Did I just get hit on by a girl while I snotted all over outside a hospital?” He grinned at her.</p><p>“Maybe,” she laughed nervously. </p><p>He looked down at the tissue packet. “How about you just tell me your number and I’ll text you? Save the tissue.” </p><p>Slyvia sagged with relief. She gave him her number, and then he texted her right there. She looked giddy but was trying to maintain herself. Carl thought he probably looked the same way. “Okay, cool. It was nice meeting you. I hope your brother gets better soon.” </p><p>“Thanks. Good luck with the baby drama.” He waved at her as she walked away.</p><p>So 45 minutes ago he’d been outside this damn hospital laughing like he was unhinged and then sobbing and now he was grinning like an idiot. Jesus. He physically shook himself. He needed to get himself together. But holy shit, this day was just…<i> what...the...fuck</i>.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Part Four</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ian sees the psychiatrist and Lip joins them. Carl has a lot of feelings.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is really getting away from me...<br/>I have 35 pages. This was just supposed to be a three shot. </p><p>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>His phone flashed and he looked down.</p><p>From Mickey: 4:17pm<br/>We’re done if you wanna come back</p><p>To Mickey:<br/>omw</p><p>Carl stood up and brushed himself off. He took a few deep breaths. He caught a glimpse of himself in his reflection on a window. Christ he looked unhinged. His hair was everywhere and his eyes were bright red and puffy, and he was still smiling like a fucking idiot.</p><p> </p><p>Carl walked into the room. Mickey and Ian were in the same places as before. Ian eye’s kinda looked like Carls. Mickey caught his eye and raised his eyebrows. “What the fuck happened to you?” He said to Carl.</p><p>Ian glanced over at him. “You look weird,” Ian said.</p><p>“Wow, thanks,” Carl responded. He quickly changed the subject. “So how’d it go?” </p><p>Mickey looked at Ian, letting Ian choose to share what he wanted to share. “It was good. Got a new antipsychotic. I don’t have to go to the psych ward. Got a few referrals for a psychiatrist,” Ian smiled at him looking hopeful.” His face fell. ”They want me to stay here for another day. Another 48 hours. To fucking monitor me.” </p><p>Ian was clearly annoyed at this. Mickey just gave him a look, and Ian huffed in response. Carl had no idea what the fuck they just communicated to each other.</p><p>Ian looked back over at Carl nervously. “So, um, is everyone...okay?” </p><p>“Yeah, man, they’re fine. I’m gonna update them now. Got ripped a new one from Liam earlier for not updating often enough.” Carl shook his head and rolled his eyes.</p><p>“From Liam? Mickey asked surprised. Carl shrugged. “Yeah. Even told me ‘fuck you.’” </p><p>Mickey leaned forward and barked, “What?” and started laughing. Carl looked at Ian who didn’t seem to find this funny. He looked upset and Carl could see the wheels turning as Ian thought about why Liam actually said fuck. </p><p>Carl’s phone started ringing. “Oh shit. It’s Lip.” He picked up the call. “Hello?” </p><p>“We’re back and if you give me like an hour I can be over there. How is he?” </p><p>“He’s good. He’s awake being a little bitch as usual,” Carl smirked at Ian while he said that. Ian raised his middle finger in response. Lip laughed. “Okay, you guys need anything?” </p><p>Carl looked at Ian and Mickey. “You need anything?” </p><p>“Ian’s phone. He’s been bugging me for it and I don’t fucking have it.”</p><p>“I have not,” Ian said indignantly. Carl turned away from their bickering and walked back to the chair near the door. “Uh so Ian’s phone, some actual food would be nice, and… bring Mickey a change of clothes,” Carl said in an undertone. The guy had been in those clothes since last night and they smelled like vomit and sweat..</p><p>“Got it, text me if you need anything else. I’ll text when I’m heading over.” </p><p>They hung up. “Lip’s coming with some real food and Ian’s phone,” he told Ian and Mickey. </p><p>Mickey exhaled and slumped into his seat.. “Thank god.” </p><p>Carl looked at Ian who was fighting sleep. Mickey huffed. “Just go to sleep,” he said to Ian. </p><p>“I’ve been asleep!” Ian whined.</p><p>“Yeah well, apparently you more. Shut the fuck and close your eyes,” Mickey said to Ian in complete exasperation. Ian huffed like a child but closed his eyes. Mickey leaned forward and was petting Ian’s hair again. “There ya go,” Mickey said softly. Ian fell asleep. </p><p>Carl groaned. “There a bathroom I can use?” </p><p>“Yeah, go down and then right,” Mickey told him. </p><p>“Thanks,” Carl said. He locked himself in the bathroom and took care of business. He stared at himself in the mirror for a few seconds before splashing water on his face. After attempting to wash his face, he felt a sharp stab behind his eye. He gripped the sides of the sink. “Fuck,” he grit out. </p><p>Just what he needed. A fucking migraine. He’d worked himself up too much. He pulled out his phone and texted Lip. “My meds and soda with caffeine. No diet” </p><p>He got a text back asking, “that bad?” Carl rolled his eyes. Yes, Lip you fucking idiot otherwise he wouldn’t ask for that incredibly expensive medication a doctor had given him after he’d had one at work and his boss forced him to get checked out.</p><p>Carl got a nurse to give him some ibuprofen which he hoped would take the edge off until Lip came. He sank back into the chair and started chugging the gatorade. <br/>Mickey was looking at him, smirking. “You gearing up for a run or something?” </p><p>Carl put the drink down with a gasp. “Nah. Was just thirsty.” </p><p>“Uh huh,” Mickey looked at him like he didn’t believe him. </p><p>Carl reached down and took a sip of that shitty coffee Mickey had given him earlier. It tasted even worse cold.</p><p>“Fuck,” Mickey said. He was shaking his coffee cup. His eyes were also barely open and started to droop.</p><p>“You need to go the fuck to sleep too,” Carl said.</p><p>Mickey gave him the middle finger. Carl ignored him. There was no way the guy was going to stay awake anyway, no matter how much he wanted too. Mickey put the coffee cup down and bent his knees. He rested his head on his arms. When Carl looked up from the game he was playing on his phone earlier, Mickey was drooling.</p><p>He rubbed his head. The screen was making the headache worse but what else was there today? He leaned back with his head against the wall and tried to breathe deeply against the sharp pains.</p><p>Someone was shaking Carl’s shoulder. He peeled his eyes open and found Lip kneeling next to him, eye level. Carl groaned and sat up, “What the…?” </p><p>Lip was smiling at him softly. “You didn’t tell me this was a slumber party,” Lip said, just above a whisper. </p><p>Carl wiped his eyes. “What time is it?” </p><p>“A little after six,” Lip said. “I would have left you asleep but I figured you want these.” He pulled out an orange pill bottle and a can of coke.</p><p>“Fuck yeah,” Carl said. He shook out the medicine and downed it with the coke. “Thanks.” </p><p>Lip was still crouched in front of him and Carl suddenly felt like he wanted to throw himself at Lip and cry. He was pretty sure he’d never actually done that in his life, and he did, he was really little. A sense of relief washed over him. Lip was here. Someone who knows what the hell they’re doing is here. </p><p>Lip frowned at him. “You okay?” </p><p>Carl realized his eyes were watering. He cleared this throat and blinked. “Yeah,” Carl replied.</p><p>Lip gave him a small smile. “You know, you can cry you know? I don’t judge.” </p><p>Carl laughed wetly. “I already cried. Made my head hurt. I’m good.” </p><p>Shit. Carl had just admitted he had cried. Lip was looking at him like he did before they were separated in foster care. Lip squeezed his shoulder and then pulled himself groaning. He arched his back to stretch out. “God,” Lip muttered.</p><p>Carl looked down at the bags Lip had brought. He smelled something fried. “So, grandpa, what food did you get?” </p><p>“Fuck you,” Lip said. “McDonalds.” He shrugged. “It was the easiest.” </p><p>Lip displayed the options in front of him. His stomach turned at the smell of the burgers. Damn his migraine. He wanted one. He grabbed some fries. “Thanks,” he told Lip. “Ian’s gonna say that this doesn’t count as real food.” </p><p>Lip rolled his eyes, as he bit into a burger. He frowned looking at Ian. “He keep anything down yet?” </p><p>“Don’t know,” Carl said.”I was gone for a bit. They didn’t want me when they were talking to the shrink.” </p><p>Lip looked sideways at him. “I wouldn’t take it as if he doesn’t trust you. He does.” </p><p>“I didn’t want to sit through that shit anyway,” Carl mumbled. </p><p>Lip leaned forward and turned so their knees were lightly touching. “I’m serious. Don’t take it personally. You know how he is about people knowing fucking anything about his life” </p><p>Carl nodded. Carl wasn’t taking it personally. It was fine. He was about to tell Lip that but as always the dude just couldn’t shut up. </p><p>“He gets embarrassed. Especially when you guys see. Thinks he has to be a superhero or some shit because he’s got this idea that he’s supposed to protect you guys. You’re not supposed to see,” Lip continued.</p><p>Carl figured “you guys” was referring to Liam and Debbie, as well as himself. For a while they had been “the kids” as if Fiona, Lip, and Ian weren’t kids themselves. </p><p>“Yeah, I know,” Carl said softly, thinking about Ian trying to be flawless for them like that’s what anyone wanted from him. </p><p>“How’s the head?” Lip said gesturing to Carl’s head.</p><p>“Bit better.” </p><p>“Yeah? You should go back to sleep.” </p><p>“Will you shut up if I go to sleep?” Carl shot back. He had been so happy to see Lip not even an hour ago and now he was just annoyed with him. Someone laughed down the hallway and Carl felt annoyed at that too. Maybe he was just irritated with everything. </p><p>“Yeah,” Lip said simply. He dug around in a bag and pulled out a plastic bag full of clothes. “I got you some clothes too.” </p><p>“Thanks,” Carl said. He slipped the hoodie over. It was the huge one and he snuggled into it. He was too tired to go change. He balled up the sweatpants and put it behind his head leaning on the wall. </p><p>Carl was, again, startled awake by Lip. Lip was laughing super loudly and was of course, sitting right next to Carl. Carl stretched his neck and realized with horror that he’d slipped down sleeping on Lip’s shoulder. Lip looked over at Carl. “Shit, sorry man.” </p><p>Carl pulled back and straightened the sweatshirt. “Nah, I’m sorry,” he gestured at Lip. Lip just shrugged and turned back to the conversation they were having before.</p><p>“Aw, Sleepy Beauty is awake,” Mickey crooned. Carl flipped him off. “You were out for like 3 hours,” Mickey informed. </p><p>Shit. There was no way it was 9. He pulled out his phone. It was 9:13. </p><p>“How is your head?” Carl was surprised that Ian was asking him. The guy was the one hooked up to machines in a hospital bed and he’s asking Carl about his head.</p><p>“How’s your body?” Carl shot back.</p><p>“Better,” Ian grinned at him. “I ate some oatmeal and it stayed down.” Carl grimaced at the mention of oatmeal. “Yeah, I know. They wouldn’t let me have a burger. Said it would be too heavy on my stomach.” </p><p>“You can get one when we get out of here man,” Mickey told him. He was looking at Ian like he was his pride and joy for not puking his fucking oatmeal up. </p><p>“Your head?” Ian said pointedly with his eyebrows raised.</p><p>“Better, still kinda hurts but it’s not stabbing me anymore. Think I can eat now.,” Carl said after assessing himself since he hadn’t even really thought about it yet. He grabbed a burger.</p><p>“Good,” Ian said. Then he grinned at Carl, in that “I’m your big brother who’s about to embarrass the crap out of you” way. “You always sleep with your mouth wide open breathing like fucking Darth Vader when you’ve got a migraine.” Ian leaned back and demonstrated. </p><p>Mickey and Lip were laughing. Carl muttered, “fuck you,” but smiled. He busied himself with the burger.</p><p>They shot the shit around for a bit and then Ian fell back asleep. And probably to his extreme annoyance, Mickey fell asleep too. </p><p>“He needs to go home,” Carl said gesturing to Mickey. “He needs a break. He’s been around this all week.” </p><p>Lip shook his head. “I know, but you’re never gonna get him to leave.” </p><p>“I got him to go for a walk earlier,” Carl said.</p><p>“That’s good, but that’s not the same thing as leaving Ian in the hospital while he goes home,” Lip said. </p><p>“True,” Carl replied. “So what do we do?” </p><p>“Try to feed him and make him breathe,” Lip said. “ Get him to change when he wakes up. I don’t know.” Lip looked over at him. “You should go home too.” </p><p>“Shouldn’t you be at home with Freddie?” Carl countered.</p><p>“Tami and Freddie are spending the night at the Gallagher house. It’s covered. There’s more than enough people to take care of Freddie.” </p><p>Carl scoffed. “Wow. And how much shit did she give you for that?” </p><p>Lip smirked and pulled out a cigarette and stuck it in his mouth, before realizing where he was. “Ah shit.” He responded to Carl. “Not much. She kind of likes Ian.”</p><p>“Huh” Carl took in the information.</p><p>Lip dangled the cigarette with a shake. “I’ll be back in a few.” Carl just nodded. “And if you’re not going to home at least change into the nice soft fucking clothes I brought you.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Part Five</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Everything catches up to Carl, and how everything is unraveling feels outside of his control. His siblings help him and he's not sure how he feels about it.<br/>**Warning: Carl Vomits, Not Super descriptive in the first five paragraphs**</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>***Carl Vomits, not descriptive in the first paragraphs***</p><p>This may be a little overboard... and very self-indulgent... whoops</p><p>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Carl grabbed the bag and locked himself in the bathroom. He took a piss. He changed. And then he could feel that burger in his stomach rolling while the light in the bathroom was stabbing his right eye. Fuck. He thought with the meds this would be over. </p><p>He gagged against his will, and the burger came back up with all the meager stuff he’d eaten today. His stomach just kept clenching until it was empty. Carl spat into the toilet. He wished he’d brought his bag with him so he could swish water around in his mouth. He’d have to go back for it.</p><p>He flushed and washed his hands. He stumbled down the hall with his hand dragging along the wall. Thankfully, the hallway was empty even though he heard voices coming from other rooms. Lip was back from smoking. Carl made his way over to a chair and somehow tripped over his own feet. Lip caught him before he fell on his butt. Lip pushed him into a chair, and wrinkled his nose.</p><p>“You puke?” Lip asked.</p><p>“Yeah,” Carl sighed. He put his head against the wall again and closed his eyes. He could feel Lip staring at him, working something out in his head.</p><p>“Yeah, I”m taking you home,” Lip said definitively. He put Carl’s bag in his lap. </p><p>:”Lip, no,” Carl said keeping his eyes closed. </p><p>“Carl, I’m taking you home,” Lip told him. </p><p>He hadn’t used that voice in a long time. He sounded like when he would tell Carl what to do like the dishes or stop playing with matches. He was older and in charge. Carl didn’t have to listen anymore. He knew that now. Carl continued to ignore him. </p><p>He heard Lip sigh and felt Lip shaking his shoulder. Carl squinted at him. Lip was making that stupid face at him again. That stupid face before being separated in the system, when Monica didn’t come to Carl’s birthday party. Fuck.</p><p>“Come on buddy,” Lip said really gently, tugging his arm. </p><p>“Okay, okay.” Carl pulled himself up. “Stop looking at me like that,” he grumbled. </p><p>Lip put his arm around Carl and steered him out. “What look?” </p><p>“I don’t know,” Carl muttered. “That weird big-brother-is- gonna-take-care-of-it it look. I don’t know. Stop doing it.” </p><p>Lip looked amused but just said “okay” and opened Tami’s car door. </p><p>“Wait,” Carl said, “Kev--”</p><p>“We’ll take it back later. It’s fine.” </p><p>Carl felt a sick feeling of anxiety drop into his stomach as Lip pulled out of the hospital parking lot. He had just left Ian there. And Mickey. Mickey had come to <i>him</i>, and was counting on him. He was supposed to see this through. What if something happened while he was gone and he wasn’t there? </p><p>He felt silent tears running down his face. Holy shit with the crying, he was doing it again. Carl leaned his head against the cool window. If Lip noticed his tears he didn’t say anything. </p><p>Lip steered him into the house and as soon as the door opened Debbie was in front of him. She looked at Carl and then back at Lip. Carl was barely standing up by himself and his eyes were red.</p><p>“Is he drunk?” Debbie asked incredulously. </p><p>“No fuck you,” Carl said back.</p><p>“Debs,” Lip cut in. He shook his head at her. </p><p>Lip started pushing him up the stairs.</p><p>“No, basement,” Carl said.</p><p>“Not tonight. There’s no bathroom down there for you to puke in. Go in your old room and the bathroom is like right there,” Lip said. He pushed Carl down on Ian’s old bed. </p><p>Lip had a point but he wanted to go sleep in his own bed with his stuff. A tear hit his nose. “Jesus fucking Christ,” Carl muttered to himself and swiped his nose.<br/>
:<br/>
Lip was crouched next to him, pulling off Carl’s shoes. “It doesn’t fucking stop. It keeps happening.” </p><p>Lip pushed him so he was on his back again. Carl shifted under the blankets. Lip draped an extra blanket on him. “You’re tired. You’re sick. You’ve had a hell of a day.,” Lip said in response to Carl’s admission. </p><p>“Go to sleep,” Lip told him as he climbed over Carl’s legs so he was sitting on the foot of the bed with his back against the wall and feet dangling off the end awkwardly.</p><p>Carl picked his head up off the pillow and looked at him. He swiped more tears off his face. “I don’t need a babysitter to go to sleep,” Carl told Lip, annoyed. </p><p>“Yeah, I know you don’t,” Lip said softly and then leaned back against the wall with his arms crossed.</p><p>Carl put his head back down on the pillow. He closed his eyes and tried to get his mind to relax because his body really needed to fucking sleep. He laid there for a while, he fell into a doze, but images of Ian were flashing behind his eyes. </p><p>
  <i>Ian on the bed this morning. Ian floating in the pool. Ian in his ROTC uniform smirking in pride. Ian laughing at something. Ian at a club in a sparkling shirt too excited and making no sense. Ian telling him to not let Fiona see the brass knuckles he’d just given Carl. Ian’s defeated and scared face as he got into the car when they picked him up from the police station. Ian running around the kitchen with a smile plastered on his face, and pancake mix all over him. Ian ruffling his hair. Ian grabbing Carl and pulling him into his side to make fun of Carl.</i>
</p><p>He forced himself to wake up and pushed his eyes opened. He sat up. There was a weird noise in the room. Oh god, that was him crying and wheezing again. What was wrong with him? He’d never cried so much in his life. He hung his head and remembered Lip was there. He felt a flash of shame. Carl looked under his eyelashes, trying to control his breathing. “L-lip,” he cried. </p><p>Lip climbed further up the bed and Carl moved over to make room in the twin bed. Lip squished against him and wrapped his arms around him. “Yeah,” Lip was saying gently. “You’re okay. You’re okay.” </p><p>Carl hiccuped against his shoulder. Lip’s hand on his aching forehead, rubbing it lightly. “You gotta calm down, buddy,” Lip murmured. “You’re gonna make yourself sick again. Breathe.” </p><p>So Carl breathed again like he did outside the hospital hours ago. He heard footsteps and the doorway creak. He glanced up. It was Debbie. Fuck. She’d never let him live this down. Her eyes were widened in shock. He couldn’t blame her. He never cried like this. Never broke down like this. He was fucking wrecked and all those strangers had seen it. Lip and Debbie were seeing it. His breath hitched up again. Nice, Carl. Cry about crying. He berated himself. </p><p>Lip murmured, “ssshh, breathe,” in response to Carl’s heightened breathing. He looked back towards the door and Debbie was still there. She walked slowly toward them, eyes wide, and waiting to be told to go away. She sank down on the floor against the end of the bed. She squeezed his ankle which for some reason made him cry slightly harder again. She took her hand off and just sat back with her back pressing into the old bed, and tilted her head back so it was lightly resting on the mattress. </p><p>“Dude,” Lip pulled him so he could look into Carl’s eyes. Carl could see panic in Lip’s eyes even though he was trying to hide it. Carl was scaring the shit out of all of them. He was supposed to be helpful not make things worse. “If you can’t calm down, I’m gonna drug you.” </p><p>“If we even have Benadryl,” Lip muttered. </p><p>“We do,” Debbie said quietly. </p><p>
  <i>Liam with his tiny mouth covered in coke. Fiona getting handcuffed and dragged away from them. Lip shouting at her and pulling him out the door. Lip drunk and puking in the front yard. Liam crying on facetime to him earlier. Debbie pounding Frank with a pillowcase full of soap bars after he broke her project… and it went on and on. His brain was just cycling through their entire shitty lives, emphasizing the bad parts.</i>
</p><p>He pulled away from Lip and shook his head. He grabbed his hair, trying to make it stop. “Carl, you’re starting to scare us here, bud,” Lip said telling him to breathe and exaggerating his breath to encourage Carl to do the same. It wasn’t working. He wasn’t really listening. </p><p>“Debs, you’re gonna have to go get that Benadryl,” Lip said. Carl thought he heard a tremor in Lip’s voice. Three bright pink pills were pushed into his hand. </p><p>“Three?” Lip questioned Debbie.</p><p>“Yeah, maximum dose,” she informed.</p><p>A hand guided his hand to drop the pills in his mouth and water poured down his throat, washing them down. </p><p>A few minutes later he felt his breath slowing. He blinked and Lip’s anxious face was looking at him from the side while he kept murmuring, “there ya go, that’s it, relax”. Carl listened until there was nothing to hear at all.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Part Six</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Carl and his siblings try to deal with the previous night, but butt heads. Carl can't decide if he wants everyone to back off or baby him. He can't figure out if they're blowing everything out of proportion or not.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I've debated if this was too out of character and then I was just like whatever.<br/>I don't know what I'm doing in this story anymore. I had a general idea, and now it's like five different things.<br/>Apparently Carl just goes to sleep with Lip hovering all the time. Whoops.</p><p>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He tried pushing his crusty and swollen eyes open but it didn’t work and Carl was too tired to do it with his hands. He just layed there. He heard Lip and Debbie talking in the hall in anxious voices. So he stayed still with eyes closed.</p><p>“Thanks,” Lip said and took a sip of something. Probably coffee. </p><p>“You call Mickey yet?” Debbie said.</p><p>“Not yet. Just texted to check in. Ian and Mickey are fine. Ian has been texting me that Mickey is driving him crazy because he’s hovering, so I guess he feels better,” Lip laughed a bit. </p><p>“That’s good,” Debbie said, sounding relieved. There was a pause. “So um, what do we do about…” She trailed off.</p><p>What do we do about him? Carl.  Family screw up. Completely incapable of taking care of his family. The dumbest Gallagher. Taking away care that Ian needed by crying all over the fucking place.</p><p>Lip sighed. “I don’t know. Just see what happens when he wakes up…” </p><p>“Okay,” Debbie said, sounding unsure.. “Lip,,, what… what the fuck was that?” She sounded scared. </p><p>“I don’t know Debs. Something about Ian probably opened up a whole lot of other doors, and I guess. the.. trauma… was triggered. I don’t think he was in control of it..” </p><p>Lip said trauma like it felt funny in his mouth.  Trauma. Their whole lives were trauma. It was just life. They all knew that.<br/>
And now, he couldn’t control himself and get a grip. That was terrifying. Fuck. Is this how Ian feels all the time? </p><p>A loud “Mommy!” floated up the steps. Fucking Franny. For someone who was so little, she was so loud. He heard footsteps head down again. </p><p>Carl slowly brought his hand out of his blanket and cleared his eye lids. He peeked at Lip who had his phone to his ear. Lip turned a bit and Carl shut his eyes.</p><p>“Hey, Ian asleep?” Lip was talking to Mickey. </p><p>“Good.”</p><p>“Yeah so we’ve got a… situation over here.” </p><p>Carl grimaced. Just say fucking problem. He was now a problem. Again. Had he ever stopped being a problem?</p><p>“Carl had a, shit I don’t know, mental breakdown last night.”</p><p>“I don’t know. He was just crying and would not calm down. We drugged him.”</p><p>If you could call giving someone benadryl “drugging” someone, Carl thought. </p><p>“Yeah um. Don’t tell Ian right now okay? Just say Carl is at a work thing or something if we’re not there later. He's still asleep. Don't know what he’ll be like awake.”</p><p>Fuck! Work! Carl looked around for his phone and felt it in his sweatpants pocket from last night. He pulled it out. 11:01 am Wednesday. He breathed a sigh of relief. It was his day off. He rolled onto his back. </p><p>
  <i>“Don’t tell Ian…”</i>
</p><p>” Carl felt hot shame fill his entire body. He had fucked up so badly he was now something that would probably upset Ian. Self-loathing joined the shame. He was not supposed to be the one making Ian’s life harder. He was supposed to make it easier! He couldn’t fucking do that apparently but Ian was still in the hospital. He pushed himself out of bed and quickly found his shoes. </p><p>“Hey,” Lip came in. “You’re up.” </p><p>Carl jumped. He was so focused on leaving. “We gotta go to Ian now,” he told Lip.</p><p>Lip gave him a look like he was trying to figure out what to do with a wounded animal. “Carl,” he cleared his throat. “Maybe just slow down and take it easy for a second. You had an epically shitty day yesterday.” Lip put his hands on Carl’s shoulders and squeezed.</p><p>Carl pulled away. Lip’s face flashed with something he couldn’t figure out. But whatever. “No,” Carl said angrily. He tried to go towards the door but Lip blocked it and stood like a starfish in the door frame. “We need to go.” </p><p>Carl stalked over and pushed his elbow against Lip’s shoulder trying to get him to move. He must have been more tired than he realized because usually he could bulldoze Lip out of the way, and Lip wasn’t budging. Irrational rage was bubbling under Carl’s skin. Carl changed tactics and put his face directly in front of Lip. “Move!” He shouted. </p><p>Dishes stopped clinking downstairs. Lip didn’t flinch and continued to block the door calmly. Carl was getting pissed. So pissed he could feel himself gear up to do something stupid like kick Lip in the balls. Lip must have seen something in his face because he was suddenly slammed into the wall and pinned there. </p><p>What the fuck! How could Lip of all people restrain him? His breath was coming out in harsh pants. Debbie burst into the room. “Jesus,” she shouted and started to come towards them.</p><p>A door opened down the hall. A baby was whining. “What’s going on?” Tami’s voice came down the hall..</p><p>“Debs,” Lip said loudly, and firmly, and completely calm. “I got this.” </p><p>Debbie shooed Tami back into the room they slept in last night. Thankful, Tami at least did something beneficial to their family for once.</p><p>Lip stared at him and squeezed his wrists harder for a few seconds. “Carl. Breathe, man.” </p><p>Carl wanted to yell fuck you but he suddenly felt too tired to be angry. He slowed his breaths down. </p><p>“Good,” Lip said. “I’m gonna let go when I get to 10 okay? And you’re going to stay chill.”</p><p>Carl gulped as Lip counted. Lip released him and Carl slumped against the wall. </p><p>Debbie was looking between Lip and Carl, hyper alert and ready to jump in. Lip cautiously came back towards him and lightly grabbed his arm. He let Lip guide him to the bed and sit. </p><p>Lip was just staring at him. Carl was too tired to meet his eyes. After a few beats, Lip asked, “You okay?” No but Carl knew Lip was referring to was Carl done being an angry maniac. He nodded. Lip nodded and crossed his arms.</p><p>“Look at me,” Lip commanded in that older brother don’t fuck with me voice he rarely used, even when they were younger. Carl hesitantly looked at Lip and met his eyes. “Don’t you dare fucking pull that shit ever again. You hear me?” </p><p>Yeah,” Carl said. His voice came out hoarse. </p><p>Lip sank into the old desk chair and put his hands on his knees, with his head in his hand. He rubbed one hand through his hair roughly. He was silent and just breathing as if he was trying to get himself together.</p><p>Carl didn’t dare move. He was more than embarrassed. He was ashamed. He’d never physically gone after Lip before in his life. He’d never been yelled at like that by Lip. He’d broken some unspoken rule none of them realized had existed. Ian and Lip did it all the time when they were kids but that was just them.</p><p>This was not helping Ian. At all. Carl had to stop losing control of himself if he wanted to help Ian. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Carl forced out with his hoarse voice. </p><p>Lip picked his head up and considered him. He sighed as he came to a decision. “I was going to go over soon anyway. I’ll take you, if you go change your clothes. Don’t care if it’s a suit or your pajamas but it needs to be clean. Brush your hair and teeth. Take your migraine meds again. Eat something. And you can go.” </p><p>Carl didn’t even feel angry at being talked to like a child. He was too relieved. He grabbed the backpack and pulled out his meds. He swallowed them right there. </p><p>Lip heaved himself out of the chair and went to the room Tami was in with his son down the hall. Fuck. Freddie was crying now. He was fucking that up too. Lip should be staying with his son or with Ian, not managing Carl. </p><p>. Carl got up to go to the basement to change. Debbie was still there awkwardly. </p><p>“Toast and peanut butter okay? We don’t have much right now.” Carl looked at her with wide eyes. It had been so long since Debbie had talked to him, or anyone, without a judgemental edge. Her eyes held no judgement either. </p><p>He nodded and scratched his head. “Thanks,” he said shyly. </p><p>“No problem,” Debbie said and headed downstairs.</p><p>Carl dragged himself to change and clean up. He looked at himself in the mirror and cursed. He looked like shit. HIs eyes were red, swollen, and puffy. Like he was allergic to bees and got stung. His cheeks were puffy too. Everything was red and puffy… and sore. His whole face hurt. He washed his face to try to make it better. It didn’t do much..</p><p>When he got upstairs Debbie was pushing a bottle of ibuprofen and toast into his hands. He dutifully swallowed the pills and ate. Debbie grabbed his bag and dropped the bottle in and didn’t say anything. </p><p>Lip was driving and Carl kept glancing at him. Lip wasn’t talking which really wasn’t an issue normally, but he had just shit all over Lip an hour ago. They got to a red light and he chanced it. “Are you going to be mad at me for the rest of the day?” </p><p>Ian did that. He’d never done it to Carl. Ian could stay mad for a week at someone and not back down. He was so fucking stupid in that way. </p><p>Lip sighed and glanced at him. The light changed. “No, we’re good,” he told Carl.</p><p>“Really?” Carl counted help but ask. </p><p>They pulled into a parking spot at the hospital. Lip turned around in the seat with his arm over the back. “I’m not mad. I’m fucking terrified,” Lip admitted quietly. “What the hell is going on with you?” </p><p>Carl shook his head. “I don’t know. This has never happened before.” </p><p>“Okay,” Lip said and straightened himself in that way he did before tackling a problem. “We’ll talk more later, okay? We’re going to figure it out.” </p><p>“Yeah okay,” Carl mumbled. He unbuckled himself. </p><p>Lip squeezed his shoulder. “We will,” he reassured him.</p><p>Carl just nodded. All of the sudden Carl just really wanted Lip to hug him again like yesterday. And Carl did not do hugs. If his family initiated one, that was fine but he never did. He didn’t even really like them unless it was with a hot girl and her boobs pressed against him. He mentally shook himself. He was being girly and childish. He had to be fucking losing his mind. There was no other explanation unless he wanted to throw aliens out there. </p><p>This shit sucked.  He didn’t know how Ian lived with this all the time. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his sweatshirt and followed Lip to see Ian. </p><p>When they entered the room Ian was asleep and Mickey was too but he had new clothes on from yesterday. There was a breakfast bar wrapper at his feet. Carl and Lip walked in quietly, but Mickey popped up, not fully asleep.</p><p>“Hey,” Lip said quietly. “How’s he doing?” </p><p>“Ian’s okay. They gave him his new antipsychotic prescription today. If his body doesn’t flip out in the next 24 hours, he can go home tomorrow,” Mickey told them. Carl realized Mickey hadn’t looked that happy about anything in the last week. “He’s just going to sleep a lot. They make him tired.” </p><p>Lip nodded in understanding. </p><p>“Don’t they all make him tired?” Carl asked.</p><p>Mickey huffed a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, basically.” </p><p>Carl gulped. He hoped he didn’t need to take medicine that made him tired since he was losing his mind and all. For a day. Maybe he was getting ahead of himself. He felt Mickey scrutinizing him in that way that made you feel naked. Carl busied himself with putting down his bag. Some of the food from last night was still there, so Carl checked out what was still probably safe to eat since it never got refrigerated. </p><p>Lip dragged a chair closer to Mickey but didn’t sit next to him. “You doing okay? You’ve been here for forever, man,” Lip said to Mickey.</p><p>Mickey scowled at him. Lip and Carl smiled a little. If Mickey was making the effort to put in that act, he must be feeling somewhat better. His face went back to the serious face he’d been wearing all week. “Yeah, he’s doing so I’m better.” </p><p>Carl wondered if that was a good thing to have your own mental state so connected to someone else but he didn’t say anything and neither did Lip. </p><p>Carl sniffed one of the burgers. He wasn’t going to eat that but wasn’t going to stop someone else if they did so he decided to just leave it alone. He tossed milk shakes with only half left in them. The fries were probably fine. They were just potatoes. In his peripheral vision he could see Lip and Mickey have some sort of mouthed conversation with facial expressions to convey what they meant. Carl knew they were talking about him. </p><p>He sorted the food into two piles. “Eat at your own risk” and “Fine”. Lip cleared his throat. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom, and catch a smoke,” he announced. Carl rolled his eyes and sighed. He turned around. It was just a sleeping Ian, and a very scrutinizing Mickey. Great. </p><p>It was silent for a while with Mickey just staring at him with his arms crossed. Carl huffed. “You guys aren’t very subtle,” he finally said. </p><p>“Well shit, we were going for really fucking obvious. Guess it didn’t work,” Mickey snarked. Carl rolled his eyes. </p><p>“So what’s up with you Mr. Piggy,” Mickey asked. “You okay?” </p><p>Carl wrinkled his nose at the new nickname. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Carl smiled at him. Or he thought he did. </p><p>Mickey huffed in annoyance. “No you’re fucking not,” he shot back to Carl.</p><p>Carl didn’t know what to say back to that but Mickey was talking again and oh god he was in for a Mickey rant. “You and Ian both fucking do that and it’s annoying as hell. Walk around like kicked puppies and then be like yeah I’m great don’t worry. I already know you’re lying so why not just cut to the fucking chase and say no or some shit. If you don’t want to talk about if fine, but at least just say no instead of fine. If there was a medal for that shit, Ian would have gold.” </p><p>Carl just raised his eyebrows at him and smirked. “Beautiful monologue,” Carl quipped. </p><p>“Aye, fuck off,” Mickey said back to him while smiling. </p><p>Carl thought maybe he’d avoided this conversation for now but dammit Mickey was leaning towards him looking all serious and…. caring which still felt weird to see on his face.</p><p>“Your brother said you were crying uncontrollably last night. And had a migraine,” Mickey stated. </p><p>Trust Mickey to just fucking say it buntly and lay it out. “Yeah, well Lip’s gotta stop blabbing my business all over town.” </p><p>Mickey raised his eyes at the exaggeration. “So this isn’t my business?” Mickey asked, like he was just posing the question.</p><p>“Uh, no,” Carl said but it came out more like a question. He shrugged. “It’s my shit.” </p><p>“Sure,” Mickey said. “It is your shit. Doesn’t mean it’s not my business, or Lip’s. .” </p><p>Carl was getting irritated. “Yeah and how’s that?” </p><p>Mickey rolled his eyes and looked at him like he was an idiot. “Because you’re fucking family dumbass. And we’re not gonna just let you spiral into some shit hole alone.” </p><p>“Spiral into some shit hole,” Carl repeated.”That’s a bit dramatic.” </p><p>Mickey ignored that. “So why are you here then? Because Ian’s business is your business because he’s your family and you care about him. Doesn’t mean you have a right to every private detail, but if he’s fucking okay or not is your business. If he is getting what he needs, that is your fucking business. So let’s replace Ian and put you there. Get it now?” </p><p>Yeah, Carl got it. And he didn’t fucking like it. At least in how it applied to him. No one needed to worry about him. Especially now. He just lost control of himself for a bit, but it is fine. It’s fucking fine. Ian is the one who got poisoned with a drug prescribed by an idiot doctor, and in the hospital. Not him. He’s just here in… sweatpants… with his face looking like a fucking chipmunk… and he went postal on Lip this morning…</p><p>Carl shook his head to clear it. “You should be a shrink or something. That was scary.” </p><p>Mickey genuinely  laughed. “Laugh, riot, Piggy.” </p><p>“You’re laughing,” Carl pointed out. Mickey was looking at his phone texting something. “You’re fucking texting my brother that you’re done talking to me, aren’t you?”</p><p>“So?” Mickey shrugged. “You’re gonna have to talk to someone. It could be fucking Kevin for all I care.” </p><p>Lip strolled back into the room and Carl shot him a glare behind Lip’s back before shoving headphones into his ears and taking out his phone. He couldn’t risk glaring at Lip in his face after this morning. He wondered if Lip had told Mickey about his blow up this morning. Probably not yet, otherwise Mickey would have laid into him harder. Shit. He didn’t want Mickey to know that. Christ. How did everything become so out of control in one day? </p><p>Mickey and Lip were staring at their phones and then glancing at each other. Carl sighed. “If you’re gonna have a conversation about me  you don’t want me to hear, at least do it when I’m not in the fucking room.” </p><p>“Hey man,” MIckey started to placate him. Carl shook his head. “How about I just make it easy for you? I’ll go for a walk and you can text me when Ian is awake.” He didn’t look back, just grabbed his bag and stormed out. He wandered around until he found the cafeteria. At least that’s what it called itself. It was a smattering of chairs with two fast food places to choose from. </p><p>Shit, he needed a drink but he obviously was not going to find that here. If he couldn’t have beer he wanted soda. The caffeine and fizz crackling in his mouth and then pricking his throat felt oddly good to Carl. He bought a bottle of coke and sipped it while zoning out. </p><p>He honestly really wanted to go home to his bed. Just curl up in his blankets and watch bad movies, maybe order pizza and eat the whole thing, drink beer until he was tipsy. But he hadn’t talked to Ian yet or spent any time with him actually awake, so he was not going anywhere. Being there for Ian trumped his desire to hide and forget his own name. He’d been selfish his whole life and it had to stop now.</p><p>HIs phone flashed with a text from Mickey saying Ian was awake. Carl smiled and headed towards the room. He entered and Ian was smiling and had actual color in his cheeks again. </p><p>“Hey,” Carl said, going up to him and clapping his shin. He noticed Ian still had the IVs. He wondered how much longer they were going to keep those in since he seemed fine now. </p><p>“Hey man,” Ian grinned crudely at him. “How was Carl Time?”</p><p>“What?” Carl said.</p><p>“Oh come on,” Ian said cheekily. “Dude, I know shit’s stressful but jacking off in a hospital bathroom is…”</p><p>Carl cut him off. “What the fuck? Who told you that?” </p><p>Ian wasn’t grinning anymore. He was looking at Carl like he had an extra head. He would normally find that joke funny. Now it was just crude and he didn’t like it. Not today.</p><p>“Lip,” Ian said slowly, glancing at Lip and shooting him a what-the-hell-face.</p><p>Carl turned to look at Lip. Lip was looking at him apprehensively, like he was worried Carl was going to blow up again. “It was just a joke,” Lip said to him. </p><p>Carl huffed, “whatever.” He sat in his seat. He knew this was part of the charade to keep Ian from asking questions, but Carl was failing to play along. The room was awkwardly silent for a few seconds before Mickey changed the topic. Carl shot him a grateful look. His phone flashed with a text from Debbie.</p><p>From Debbie (Shithead #4) 12:40pm<br/>
You got insurance now right?</p><p>To Debbie:<br/>
Yeah. Got a plan for a scam? </p><p>From Debbie:<br/>
No!<br/>
What is the name of the insurance? </p><p>To Debbie:<br/>
I don’t know.<br/>
Why? </p><p>From Debbie:<br/>
You could probably see a good doctor with your insurance.<br/>
I need to see who will take it. </p><p>Carl felt a mixture of shame and anger so strong he wanted to throw up. He didn’t need a fucking doctor! He didn’t need hushed conversations about him! He didn’t need a babysitter! :He needed for them all to just leave him the fuck alone.</p><p>To Debbie:<br/>
Fuck you</p><p>From Debbie:<br/>
Carl…</p><p>To Debbie:<br/>
FUCK<br/>
YOU</p><p>He clicked his phone off and stuffed it in his pocket. He wanted to forget about the whole exchange so he tried to tune back into the conversation Ian, Mickey, and Lip were having. Lip noticed him paying attention again and smirked.</p><p>“So who's the girl you’re texting? She cute?” Lip said, teasingly. </p><p>Carl stared at him. “I was texting Debbie!” </p><p>He was done. had it. He'd seen Ian. He was okay. Carl wasn’t strong enough for this shit. He was going home away from Lip and Mickey. He’d lock himself in the basement and shoot anyone with the airsoft gun if they tried coming down. He was going home, and he could take Kev’s truck back that way too.</p><p>The room was awkwardly silent again. “Dude, the kid’s tired as fuck, lay off with the teasing a bit,” Mickey told Lip.</p><p>Carl glanced at all of them,  grabbed his bag, and then booked it out of the room without saying a word.</p><p>“Carl!” Lip’s voiced call after him. He could hear Lip’s footsteps quickening to catch up with him. </p><p>Carl ignored him and unlocked the truck, flung open the door, and climbed in. He went to slam the door closed but Lip was suddenly pushing himself in the crack between the door and the car. </p><p>Carl thought about earlier and what had happened when Lip had tried to block him. He couldn’t do that again.</p><p>“Lip, get out,” Carl said, tiredly. </p><p>“Mm-mm,” Lip shook his head. </p><p>Carl sighed. He held out the keys to Lip. “You wanna drive then?” </p><p>Lip sputtered. “No, I want you to stay here. You can’t just run off like that.” </p><p>Carl glared. “Last time I checked, I was 18 and the only one in this fucking family with a real and steady job. I can do whatever the fuck I want.” </p><p>Lip looked like he’d been kicked, and was staring at him wordlessly. Seconds went by and he still didn’t say anything or move.</p><p>“Seriously, Lip, come on,” Carl said, irritated. </p><p>Lip’s eyes widened and muttered, “fuck it” to himself. Suddenly Carl felt himself get pulled out of the truck and slammed into Lips chest. Lip’s arms clenched around him. He didn’t reciprocate the hug. He just stood there.</p><p>“Get off me, Philip.” </p><p>Lip’s breath hitched in his ear. His voice wavered and cracked, as he said, “No, Carl.” </p><p>Carl felt his insides turn to ice. Was Lip crying? Fucking hell. He tried to pull back to look at Lip’s face but Lip kept him locked in the hug. Lip sniffled. Shit. He was crying. Carl awkwardly brought his arms up and wrapped them around Lip, and patted his back a few times. He hoped that would placate Lip enough to let him go but it didn’t. </p><p>Hadn’t he wanted a hug earlier? As embarrassing as that was. He’d definitely had admitted that to himself before they went into the hospital. He was getting it now, so… fuck it. </p><p>Carl buried his face into Lip’s shoulder and squeezed his eyes closed. Lip dropped a light kiss on his hair. Gross and girly. But… “I-I don’t feel good,” Carl said into Lip’s shoulder, sounding like a kid. </p><p>Lip rubbed his back. “I know,” he said softly into Carl’s hair. Lip finally pulled back. Shit he was definitely fucking crying. He’d made another brother cry! Liam and now Lip! Carl was surprised he wasn’t crying again, but he wasn’t going to question that blessing. He’d had enough crying for the rest of his life now. </p><p>Lip sniffed and wiped his face, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he said, gesturing to the hospital. Carl knew it was about what had just happened. </p><p>“It’s okay,” Carl murmured, staring at the ground. He heard Lip continue to try to get himself together. “I think you broke the record of longest hug in the world.” Carl said. He dared to look up.</p><p>Lip huffed a laugh. “Wonder if I could get some money for that,” he quipped back. </p><p>Carl made a show of brushing himself off. “My balls are gonna fall off, man. You totally stripped me of my masculinity.” </p><p>Lip actually laughed fully this time. He wrapped his arm around Carl’s shoulder and started walking towards the building. “Come on.” </p><p>Carl was leaning more heavily on Lip than he wanted to. Lip noticed, of course he did, and said, “If he’s asleep, you should sleep too. We can wake you up when he’s awake. Okay?” </p><p>Carl nodded, “Yeah, thanks.” </p><p>They walked through the door and Lip didn’t let go of him until he was sitting in a chair. Ian was sleeping again. Mickey scrutinized them but didn’t say anything other than, “You all sunshine and rainbow friends again?” </p><p>“Yep,” Lip said popping the P. He was dragging chairs around so they faced each other touching. </p><p>“The hell you doing?” MIckey asked, sounding slightly amused. </p><p>Lip responded by pulling Carl up and pushing him onto one of the chairs. He made sure they were still connected. “See? It’s like a cot, or something.”  </p><p>“Yeah, or something,” Mickey snorted. </p><p>“Lay down,” Lip instructured Carl, and started to move away. Carl surprised both of them by snagging his hand on Lip’s shirt so he couldn’t leave. </p><p>No one had ever been there like this for him before. Maybe because they never needed to be. Maybe because he never let them. Maybe this is what he had missed out on all those years after he turned five that he pushed away from Fiona’s mothering affection.</p><p>It was girly and childish, but it felt so fucking nice against all of the horrible shit he was feeling. If Lip was offering, Carl was going to take it like the selfish bastard he is, and deal with the consequences later. As always.</p><p>Lip raised his eyebrows at him before schooling his features into nonchalance. He gestured for Carl to move so he could sit down with his legs crossed and tucked. He made Carl lie down again with his head resting on Lip’s shin. It wasn’t very comfortable. He didn’t fit in this makeshift bed without curling up and Lip’s shin wasn’t particularly soft but it didn’t matter. Carl grabbed the fabric at the ankle of Lip’s jeans and closed his eyes… and wrinkled his nose.</p><p>“Your feet fucking smell,” Carl grumbled. </p><p>“Sorry,” Lip said, not sounding very sorry at all. Lip was rubbing the back of his neck and Carl was a goner.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Part Seven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Carl hears Ian's opinion on the possible nervous breakdown, gets some sleep, and texts Sylvia.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was rough to write. I completely scrapped something that was incredibly different than this but I think this makes more sense. So it's a lighter chapter. </p><p>I realized I've been spelling Sylvia wrong so I'll have to go back and fix other chapters.</p><p>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Carl was getting really tired of being woken up by Lip. </p><p>“Hey,” Lip said, shaking Carl’s shoulder “I gotta get back to Freddie.” </p><p>“Oh, okay,” Carl said disoriented. He realized he was partially resting on Lip so he groaned and got up. He rubbed his eyes, and stretched so his back popped. His eyes fell on Ian. Ian was awake. So Ian had seen Carl basically cuddling with Lip. His stomach twisted nervously but Ian wasn’t looking at him, he was saying bye to Lip.</p><p>Lip was talking to him again so Carl forced himself to pay attention.</p><p>“You good getting yourself home or do you want to come with me? Lip asked.</p><p>“I’m good, thanks,” Carl said.</p><p>“Alright, see you later,” Lip said and left.</p><p>Carl felt like Lip was giving him whiplash. A few hours ago he wasn’t allowed to go home by himself and had spent all day getting babysat. Now Lip was giving him a choice and not questioning it. Carl glanced at Ian. Ian was looking at him but there wasn’t anything that unusual in his facial expression. Mickey was looking at Carl apprehensively and biting his nails. </p><p>“Hey,” Ian said to Carl. </p><p>“Hey,” Carl said back. “How are you feeling?”</p><p>Ian gave him a small smile. “Tired as fuck.” </p><p>“They say when you can leave yet?” Carl asked. </p><p>“Yeah while you were over there doing your best impression of a log. Tomorrow morning. I wanted it to be tonight but whatever,” Ian told him. </p><p>Carl nodded. He didn’t really know what to say after that. Ian was looking at him weirdly now. He had his concerned big brother face on, and fuck, Carl wanted to hide. </p><p>“How are you feeling?” Ian said. Ian probably thought he sounded casual, but Carl did not think so. </p><p>“Tired as fuck,” Carl said, shrugging. It’s not like it wasn’t true. It was very true, but he can tell that’s not what Ian was looking for. It was awkwardly silent again for a few moments.</p><p>Ian took a deep breath, “Carl,” he said gently. </p><p>Carl cut him off before he could say anything else. He turned to Mickey and raised his eyebrows. “So you guys told him? I thought you wanted to wait?” </p><p>“Yeah well, you weren’t exactly able to help with that,” Mickey said and rolled his eyes.</p><p>“What do you mean?” Carl asked. </p><p>“Dude, you were basically cuddling with Lip and that is the most out of character thing I’ve ever seen in my life from you. You were acting off earlier too. It’s not hard to figure out that something has to be going on,” Ian said. </p><p>Carl turned red and pulled his knees up to his chest, and stared at his hands. “There’s nothing wrong with cuddling,” Ian told him.</p><p>“Oh my god,” Carl moaned. This ws fucking embarassing. “Just stop it.”</p><p>“Okay,” Ian said simply and stopped talking. </p><p>Forcing himself to look up, Carl asked irritatedly, “So you gonna tell me your unsolicited opinion like everyone else?”</p><p>Ian smirked at him. “No, I think you’ve heard enough from them. If you want a solicited opinion, sure.” </p><p>Carl now wanted to know. Carl always wanted to know what Ian thought about things. He was the only sibling who never got mad at Carl for asking so many questions as a kid. “Okay, fine, what’s your solicited opinion?” </p><p>“Honest answer?” Ian asked him. He had that face where Carl couldn’t tell if he was fucking with him or not </p><p>“No,I want you to fucking lie to me,” Carl said sarcastically. </p><p>“Well,” Ian paused. Carl braced himself, as Ian geared up to tell him he was going nuts because he clearly was. “I think you need to just go to fucking sleep for a while, and see how you feel after that.”</p><p>“What?” Carl asked, confused.</p><p>“Unlike let’s Mr. Blow Out Everything Out of Proportion Lip, I honestly think you had an epically shitty day yesterday. And sometimes those are scary and you feel things you’ve never felt. But it’s just the day, or a few days, it’s not a full blown crisis. You need to go sleep, seriously. Let your body and brain reset. You’re just riling yourself up more,” Ian told him.</p><p>“Really?” Carl felt somewhat relieved. Maybe this would be okay but maybe it wouldn’t be. Sleep sounded good right now though. </p><p>“Yeah, so what’s he’s basically saying is you need to go home,” Mickey said, crossing his arms. </p><p>“I think I got Lip to chill out a bit, for now,” Ian said.”So just go home and worry about yourself.” </p><p>Carl looked between the two of them. If there was some other layer to what was going on, he was too tired to figure it out. Everything felt drained, and he was sore everywhere. Ian was starting to look the same again. He was paling and his eyes were drooping. </p><p>“Okay,” Carl said. “Thanks…” </p><p>Ian rolled his eyes. “Yeah whatever, text me when you get home,” Ian said.</p><p>“Go to sleep, Mr. Piggy,” Mickey called out to him as he left the room. </p><p>Some self hatred came up again that Carl was too weak to be there, but the rest of him was just tired and couldn’t keep going.</p><p>Finally, he parked Kev’s car outside his house. He took out his phone and texted Ian and Mickey because he was pretty sure Ian was asleep again. </p><p>Debbie’s truck wasn’t parked and Sandy’s car wasn’t around either. Maybe the universe had blessed him with an empty house.</p><p>He walked in and heard nothing. He walked up the steps. “Hello?” Still nothing.</p><p>Carl took the fastest shower ever, which he found kind of annoying. The one time he was alone and could draw it out as much as he wanted it,he just wanted to clean up before crashing. He did take the hottest shower he’d had in months. </p><p>He went to the basement, put on some clean boxers, and slid into his bed. He’d just bought some super silky and soft sheets and blankets. They felt so nice against his skin. Carl checked his phone one last time. There was a group text message in the whole family thread. It said: “Let Carl sleep!!!!” </p><p>Carl was torn between finding that kind of touching or embarrassing. He couldn’t tell if he was just trying to mess around with him and make fun of him, or if he genuinely was just being that weird. That was something to figure out later. Carl didn’t have to be at work until one so he had time since it was only 5 in the evening. He set his alarms and threw the phone on the other side of the bed. Burrowing under the blankets, he was so ready for some long, uninterrupted sleep.</p><p>--</p><p>When he woke up again it wasn’t even the next day yet. Well, it was midnight which is the next day, but not in terms of going to work. Carl just laid there waking up. He could hear his family talking and clinking beer bottles. Franny was probably in bed. He heard Tami talking too. So they were much more toned down than usual for the kids.</p><p>He reached for his phone and started looking through all the messages from people who weren’t his family that he’d ignored for the last few days. He paused at the one message that didn’t have a contact’s name. It was from when Sylvia texted him so he’d have her number. She hadn’t texted him. Carl was slightly disappointed but as he thought back about meeting Sylvia, she was the one bold enough to ask him for his number. So maybe, it was his turn to do something and text her first. </p><p>He pulled up the number and his fingers hovered over the phone. Well first things first, he was going to save her as a contact. Now what to say, and it was pretty late at night too. Maybe he should just wait until tomorrow. His stomach did that stupid fluttering thing that happens once he realizes he actually likes the girl. Carl decided it was now or never.</p><p> </p><p>To Sylvia 12:03am: </p><p>Sorry for the late text, just got a second to thank you for the tissue. Hope the baby drama worked out.</p><p>He hit send and felt like he was going to shit his pants. What was he, 12? He was almost 19 with a real job, and he’s over here feeling like a giddy kid. He couldn’t stop staring at the phone for a new message.</p><p>From Sylvia 12:06am: </p><p>I stay up late anyway. No problem.<br/>Yeah it worked out I guess. After all that they named the kid something with only 3 letters and is a month. May is kind of cute as a name though. <br/>I’m just glad she didn’t end up with a name after a car. </p><p>To Sylvia: 12:10am</p><p>Haha. May isn’t a bad name. The baby is probably cute too.</p><p>Carl sent that and then cringed. What the hell was that? Babies are actually ugly as fuck for a few days when they’re born. Freddie looked like a rumpled alien. But girls always thought they were the cutest fucking thing ever when they popped out.</p><p>From Slylvia 12:13am:</p><p>She is. Hope things worked out for you too.</p><p>Carl laughed sarcastically. Nope he just went and lost his mind hours after they’d met. But Ian was doing better, and that what’s mattered. </p><p>To Sylvia 12:14am:</p><p>My brother is coming home in the morning, so things are looking better.</p><p>From Sylvia 12:16am:<br/>Glad to hear it!</p><p>The conversation was at an impasse. Someone either had to keep it going or they’d just let it fade out. So he should ask if she wants to hang out. He liked her. She seemed interested in him. He’s asked so many girls to hang out, so what was the problem this time? </p><p>To Sylvia 12:20am:</p><p>Wanna hang out sometime? </p><p>Carl’s heart was beating incredbily fast and his stupid teenage meotional reactions where starting to annoy him. She didn’t respond for a while and Carl thought he was going to explode from anticipation.</p><p>From Sylvia 12:30am:</p><p>Wow. No incoming unsolicited dick pic</p><p>What? Was he supposed to send one? He was not getting that vibe.</p><p>To Sylvia 12:31am</p><p>What?<br/>I mean hang out as just hanging out. </p><p>From Sylvia 12:32am:</p><p>I know.<br/>Sorry it’s been a while since a guy hasn’t asked that question and then immediately say something sexual after.</p><p>To Sylvia 12:33am</p><p>That’s gross. Most of those pics are someone else anyway.<br/>So is this a yes to hanging out or a no? </p><p>From Sylvia 12:34am</p><p>It’s a yes. </p><p>Carl almost had to stop himself from saying cool back like an idiot. </p><p>To Sylvia 12:35am</p><p>Are you free Saturday night? <br/>I’m working for the next few days. <br/>We could like… get burgers or something? <br/>I don’t know. Just an idea.</p><p>Oh my god, he had just rambled in a text messages. Great.  </p><p>From Sylvia 12:36am<br/>Yeah I’m free. <br/>Sounds good as long as we go some place with veggie burgers too. </p><p>Oh. Awkward. </p><p>To Sylvia 12:37am</p><p>Okay. You name the time and place.<br/>I’ll be there.</p><p>From Sylvia: 12:39am</p><p>Burger stop. 6pm</p><p>To Sylvia 12:40am<br/>Works for me. I’ll see you there.</p><p>From Sylvia 12:41am<br/>See ya! :)</p><p>So now he had a date. The last few days were starting to feel like years. Carl realized this is the most normal conversation he’s had with someone in a while that’s not about what’s wrong with him or Ian. It felt nice, and not just because he got a date out of it. </p><p>Carl grinned, rolled over, and went back to sleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Part Eight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ian comes home and Carl finds himself in a position where he has to help again. Then Carl gets sick. The word piss is said a lot.</p><p>(Not covid. Sorry not sorry, I'm not inserting that into my fictional world)<br/>**Vomiting in the second half**</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Carl does not have covid. Sorry not sorry, I'm not inserting that into my fictional world. It's enough for it to exist in one.<br/>**Vomiting in the second half**</p><p>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next time he woke up, it was around 10 in the morning. The back door opened and closed. He could hear Ian and Mickey bickering about something stupid when they got interrupted by Franny. Franny had just screamed “Uncle Ian!” so loudly he’s pretty sure the entire block heard. </p><p>Carl figured he might as well just get up. He was hungry anyway and Ian was upstairs. He stood up and felt kind of light headed. “Fuck,” he muttered to himself. Maybe he was just hungry or low on blood sugar or something. Lip better not have drank all their orange juice again, especially since he didn’t even fucking like there anymore.</p><p>He went upstairs and made a beeline for the fridge. There was still some orange juice left. He took out the carton and drank straight from it. </p><p>“Carl!” Debbie exclaimed, annoyed. </p><p>“What? I’m finishing it and I’m the one who bought it,” Carl said back. </p><p>“Well I guess you’re not having orange juice,” Mickey told Ian. </p><p>“Oh shit, sorry,” Carl said and finally focused on his brother and his brother in law since they came home. Ian was slumped in a chair at the kitchen table with Mickey standing behind him. Ian honestly looked like shit again. He’d looked way better in the hospital yesterday.</p><p>“Hey,” Carl said, sitting across from them with a bowl of cereal. </p><p>“Hi,” Ian said tonelessly. </p><p>Carl glanced up at Mickey who just lightly shook his head at him. So Carl didn’t say anything else, and just ate his cereal.</p><p>“Want some of Franny’s apple juice?” Debbie asked. </p><p>“Yeah, that works, thanks,” Mickey said. Mickey grabbed a cup of apple juice. He noticed that he’d grabbed one of Franny’s plastic cups instead of a glass like usual.</p><p>Mickey sat at the table pressed against Ian who was just staring at nothing. Mickey took a pill bottle out of his pocket. Ian turned his head to look at Mickey when he heard the pills rattling.</p><p>“No,” Ian whined under his breath. </p><p>Mickey sighed and Ian put his head down on the table, using his arms as pillows.</p><p>“Ian,” Mickey said, gently but it was clear he was hitting the end of his patience. </p><p>“Gimme my other ones,” Ian said into his arm. Mickey got up wordlessly and took them from the kitchen cabinet. He took out the needed pills and put them on the table. Ian lifted himself up and took them. Then he put his head back down.</p><p>Debbie and Franny were at the door. While Franny put on her shoes and her sweatshirt, Carl caught Debbie’s eye. He forgot he was still fucking pissed at her, and that’s part of the reaosn he can’t stay angry and not waver for days on end like Ian.  Carl and Debbie exchanged a nervous look. Franny was ready and Debbie held up her phone at Carl and shook it. He nodded his head. Yeah, he’d text her what happens.</p><p>“Ian, seriously, come on,” Mickey said, no longer hiding his annoyance. </p><p>“No, I don’t like it,” Ian said, sounding like a petulant child.</p><p>“It’s only been two days you’ve got to give it more than two days to get used to it and it won’t feel as bad anymore,” Mickey said.</p><p>Carl finished his cereal, and took the bowl to the sink. It was his turn to do dishes, which he’d usually put off until the last second, but he didn’t want to leave Ian yet. So he busied himself with soapy dishes, and watched Ian from the corner of his eye.</p><p>“I always feel fucking bad,” Ian bit out, lifting his head to glare at Mickey. Carl realized the only reason Ian hadn’t stormed off yet was because he was too weak to go anywhere by himself still. That kind of made Carl want to throw up or go out in the yard to scream.</p><p>Carl didn’t know why he’d just stupidly assumed that things would be okay now. Ian’s meds still had to be adjusted so he still had to get used to them and he’d just spent a week puking his guts up already  Carl knew this. This isn’t the first med adjustment process he’s watched. So he really shouldn’t feel so fucking disappointed right now that Ian is still struggling.</p><p>Carl must have stopped cleaning dishes and stared at Mickey and Ian because Mickey looked up and caught Carl’s eye. He had that same look in his eyes as he did the day they took Ian to the hospital. Mickey didn’t know what to do which kind of jolted him because he always seemed to know what to do with Ian. Mickey was turning to him again as if Carl knew any better. Maybe Mickey just didn’t want to be alone in the situation, or in Ian’s anger.</p><p>Carl pointed at himself, and then the table. Mickey shrugged. So Carl washed the soap of his hands and walked over to the table trying to seem casual. He was going to have to find a way to still talk like he always did to Ian. Like a normal person. He’d just never been in the position where he had to talk to Ian like a normal person <i>while also trying to get him to take his fucking meds.</i></p><p>Carl plucked the bottle off the table and studied it. “Clozapine? Who the hell comes up with the names of this stuff?” </p><p>Ian had titled his head so it was still resting on his arms but he was watching Carl which Carl hoped that was a good thing. He opened the bottle and peered into it. “Why is it like the color of piss?” </p><p>Mickey huffed a laugh and Carl thought he saw Ian’s eyes light up for a second. Carl closed the bottle. He put it back on the table. “What’s so bad about it? It taste like piss too?” Carl asked.</p><p>Ian picked his head up and stared at him. “And you know what piss tastes like?” Ian asked, smiling a little. The words came out really slowly. Mickey looked like he was going to cry.</p><p>“Uh, I may have drank some of my own piss when I was like seven to see what it would taste like,” Carl said </p><p>Ian was smiling a bit again. “Of course you did.” </p><p>“So tell me what it tastes like and I’ll tell you if your pill tastes like pee,” Carl said. It sounded ridiculous but it was also the sort of thing he’d normally say anyway. </p><p>Ian’s smile dropped and Carl felt like someone had opened a cavern in his chest even though he realistically knew no one was ever smiling all the time.</p><p>Ian sighed. “It doesn’t taste like anything. It just makes me feel...<i>weird</i>,” Ian explained. It looked like Ian was trying to come up with the words to explain it but he couldn’t and so had settled on weird. </p><p>“You’ve always been weird,” Carl said and gently kicked Ian’s foot under the table. He smirked at him so Ian knew he was teasing. “I don’t know anyone else who gets up at five in the morning to do fucking sit ups. So just take it until it’s used to your weirdness.” That kind of made no sense. Whatever.</p><p>It was silent for a few seconds. Ian took the pill bottle and stared at it. Then he tried to open it but his hands were shaking too much to get past the child safety function. He angrily put them back on the table but picked them back up. Ian didn’t look at Mickey, he stared straight ahead but held the bottle out to the side for Mickey to take.</p><p>Mickey looked like he had just peed himself in shock but he took the bottle, opened it, and shook out a pill without a sound. Ian stuck his hand out to the side like he did with the bottle. Mickey dropped the pill into his palm. Carl saw it in slow motion. Ian’s fingers curled around the pill, he brought it and threw it in his mouth. He picked up the cup of juice but his hand was shaking, so he put the other one on top of it to steady it enough that he could drink the juice. He heard Ian swallow as if it were as loud as a drum. It was done. Ian had taken it.</p><p> Carl sank back in his seat and suddenly felt exhausted. Ian still hadn’t turned to Mickey yet, he just had his hands loosely placed on the table. “I still want to call the doctor tomorrow and talk about it,” Ian said stubbornly.</p><p>Mickey made a choking noise. “I never said you couldn’t, man. I just wanted you to take the fucking pill.” MIckey’s voice broke.</p><p>Ian’s eyes went wide and Carl’s pretty sure his eyes had done the same. Ian turned slowly to look at his husband who had tears streaming down his face. Well shit. Ian froze for a second before taking Mickey’s face in his hands, and they stared at each other intensely while Ian wiped his tears with his thumbs.</p><p>Carl stood up, unnoticed by the two of them. He felt profoundly out of place and like he was seeing something he wasn’t meant to see. This was between Ian and Mickey. He glanced at his phone and it was nearing 11:30 anyway. He slipped quietly downstairs to get ready for work. He texted Debbie, “he took it,” and didn’t bother looking at her response.</p><p>--</p><p>If Carl was doing anything but paperwork and fielding calls, he probably would not have made it through 9 hours of work. Normally, he’d hate doing these tasks. There was always something he did wrong on the paperwork and always someone mad at him about it, and he doesn’t know what to do but keep trying. Tonight, having desk work was a blessing because he felt like shit. He still kind of felt emotionally drained, but it was better. His migraine was gone. So now he’d been gifted with chills, a headache, a sore throat, and just generally shittiness. </p><p>By the time he’d somehow managed to drag himself back home, he collapsed on his bed and curled into a ball. Fuck he probably had a fever. He didn’t have a thermometer. There might be one somewhere in the bathroom upstairs, but it was probably broken. Debbie might have one but he was not going to make it up the steps, even if he wanted to dare look through his stuff. Mickey and Ian definitely didn’t have one. Liam wasn’t even home. He was at Kev an Vee’s. Vee probably had a thermometer but he didn’t know if she was actually at home or at the Alibi and Kevin sure as shit wouldn’t know where it was.</p><p> Why was this so complicated? Why was he making this complicated? Did he even need a thermometer? It head spun and he gripped the sides as if that would do anything.</p><p>Tami! Tami definitely had one… which meant by extension...so did LIp. Fuck. He’d never actually texted Tami outside a group chat before so that would probably be awkward anyway. He smirked at the addition made to Lip’s contact name. It was childish but whatever.</p><p>To Lip is so annoying 9:37pm</p><p>You guys have a thermometer? </p><p>From Lip is so annoying 9:40pm</p><p>Yeah why? Ian have a fever?</p><p>To Lip is so annoying 9:42pm</p><p>I think I do…</p><p>From Lip is so annoying 9:45pm</p><p>Be right there. You in the basement?</p><p>To Lip is so annoying 9:45pm</p><p>Yeah</p><p>Carl threw the phone back on the bed. He couldn’t really do anything other than just lay there waiting for Lip. His stomach started feeling really weird and it twisted painfully, and shit he was going to puke but he’s too far from a bathroom to make it and he doesn’t know where his trash can is but he doesn’t want to puke on his bed, so he just leaned over the side and did it on the floor. </p><p>Carl’s eyes are watering. He told himself it’s just because of the force of being sick. His eyes always watered when he got sick like that. But they usually didn’t have tears dripping down his face. Fuck. </p><p>He pulled himself up and grabbed his towel and threw it down over the vomit. He crouched down, mopping it up. He’d finally found a plastic bag to throw the towel in when Lip came down.</p><p>“Hey I’ve got the--” Lip abruptly stopped talking. He watched Carl shove the towel further into the bag before tying it. He could smell it. </p><p>“Jesus Carl,” Lip muttered. He looked around and found the little trash can. Carl had set himself on the floor, not bothering trying to get up. Lip put it in front of him.</p><p>Lip crouched down and pulled out a weird looking thermometer. He stuck a metal stick in Carl’s ear. It was cold. “What the fuck are you doing?” Carl asked.</p><p>“Taking your temperature, dumbass. Some thermometers go in your ear. It’s for babies,” Lip explained. </p><p>“Whatever, what’s it say?” Carl grumbled. Lip held out the thermometer so they could both see it. </p><p>“101.3, congratulations,” Lip said. He grabbed Carl by the arms, hauled him up, and walked him the foot back to bed. Carl was shivering. </p><p>“You gotta change out of that,” Lip said. Carl looked down. Right. He was still in uniform. Lip brought a laundry basket out from the corner. The clothes weren’t folded but they smelled like detergent. “These clean?” </p><p>Carl nodded. Lip threw pajamas at him, and a sweatshirt. Lip took off back up the steps. Carl concentrated on getting changed. He crawled towards his pillows. Lip came down with something that was rattling. It was too loud. </p><p>“Tylenol,” Lip held it up. Carl held out his hand for the bottle and grabbed the water bottle by his bed. He opened it. </p><p>“Take two,” Lip said. </p><p>Carl rolled his eyes. “I know fucker.” </p><p>Lip grabbed the trash can and put it closer to Carl’s head. “Maybe you should stay in the room?”</p><p>“No,” Carl grimaced. “Ian’s up there having… bathroom problems… we don’t need to both be in there.” </p><p>“Okay. Upstairs, on the couch?” Lip suggested. </p><p>“No. I want my bed. I have the trashcan. It’s fine. I don’t feel nauseous anyway,” Carl said as he got under his blankets. </p><p>Lip held up his hands. “Okay, your problem anyway,” he said.</p><p>He put the thermometer down on the nightstand. “I’m leaving this here for now okay? And the tylenol.” Lip pulled a water bottle from Carl’s mini fridge and placed it on the nightstand too.</p><p>Carl should just keep his own fucking orange juice down here, he suddenly realized. What the hell? That was hours ago. He looked at the nightstand and then back at Lip.</p><p>“Thanks,” Carl said.</p><p>“No problem,” Lip replied.</p><p>Carl switched his lamp off, and closed his eyes. He could hear Lip still breathing in the room. Carl rolled over to face him.</p><p>“You can go,” Carl said to him. </p><p>“I was going to stay for a little bit,” Lip said slowly. He knew this was going to piss Carl off. Why did he fucking say it then? Jesus.</p><p>Arguing with Lip wasn’t even worth it. “Whatever,” he mumbled and rolled so his back was to Lip. “Only for a little bit or I will kick you in the balls if you’re still here in an hour. I don’t sleep straight through when I’m sick so I’ll wake up and I’ll know.”</p><p>“Okay, chill,” Lip replied.</p><p>When Carl woke up again about an hour later, Lip wasn’t there. But there was a box of crackers and a beat up looking can of ginger ale that had probably been pushed around to the back for months.</p><p>It continued like that, sleeping for an hour and waking up, and then going back to sleep. Until he woke up with Mickey standing at his bed peering over at him and holding something against his ear. </p><p>Carl startled and threw a punch before realizing it was Mickey. Lucky for Mickey, Carl hadn’t even swung in the right direction. </p><p>“What the fuck?” Carl yelled. That made his throat burn. </p><p>Mickey backed up and held up his hands, looking awkward. “Sorry, sorry, just checking on you.” </p><p>“By staring at me?” Carl said angrily. </p><p>“No, I was taking your temperature,” Mickey replied, rolling his eyes. “It’s 100.5, by the way.”</p><p>Oh right. Carl remembered feeling that on his ear. “Okay thanks.” </p><p>Carl sat up and grabbed the tylenol. It had definitely been over 4 hours so he shook out two and took them.</p><p>“God, maybe I should bring Ian down here and so someone can see you both at the same time. You guys are so alike each other, but could you refrain from that in terms of sickness?” Mickey rubbed the back of his neck.</p><p>Oh my god. Carl groaned. Two emotions flashed through him, anger and curiosity. How the hell was he ever like Ian? He was nothing like Ian, unless MIckey was saying he was also.. losing it.</p><p>Carl scoffed. “Ian and I are nothing alike.” </p><p>“Yeah you are. You both do the whole heart on the sleeve thing but don’t fucking tell anyone what any of it means. You both get very focused on a goal that it’s scary how you’ll let nothing pull you off track. You’re both very into running and shit. You both kind of go unnoticed sometimes which isn’t fucking okay…” Mickey said trailing.off as some of the words ran together.</p><p>Carl turned red. He was flattered anyone thought he was like Ian in those ways. However, Mickey on the other hand was getting loop as fuck. Carl raised his eyebrows at MIckey.</p><p>“Okay, you’re officially getting loopy. Go to sleep,” Carl said.</p><p>“Nah, I can’t--” Mickey started</p><p>“Yes, you can! Stop fucking telling me and Ian and everyone else what the fuck to do. You don’t like people trying to help you? Wow congrats, sounds like the rest of us. So why are you allowed to push but you just should get a free pass, we can’t say shit?” Carl shouted. Fuck. This was not good for his throat. </p><p>Mickey opened his mouth but Carl cut him off. “You can’t function like this so take your own fucking advice. Go to sleep! I swear to god, Mickey Whatever-the-fuck you guys did with your last names, if you’re not at least trying to sleep in an hour, I’m going to get Debbie to knock you out with a pan. She’s good at it too.” Carl started coughing. The yelling irritated his throat so much but damn he was so fucking annoyed. </p><p>He glared at Mickey, waiting for Mickey to challenge him. Mickey had this weird look on his face. Carl wondered if anyone had ever admonished him so harshly for <i>not</i> taking care of himself.</p><p>He must have been loud enough for everyone in the kitchen to hear because Debbie opened the basement door, and yelled down, “Sounds good to me. Let’s go Mickey!” </p><p>Mickey slowly trudged up the steps silently and red in the face. Debbie met him half way and grabbed his hand, pulling him up the rest of the way.</p><p>Carl started coughing again. Fuck. He looked at his phone. It was 11. HIs shift was at one again. He was not going to be on desk duty so he’ll be so very intimidating if he’s coughing up a lung. Great. </p><p>When Carl called to call out, he took a breath to talk. He started coughing again. His boss basically ordered him to stay home and not bring that cough anywhere near the station. </p><p>Carl flopped back on the bed to go to sleep, again. All he did this week was sleep and he still felt like shit. He realized that is something Ian deals with all the time. So he stopped whining to himself, and just went to sleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Part Nine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Carl and Lip have an important talk, and then some ridiculous family fluff ensues.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Carl’s fever ended up going down throught out the day Carl had stopped taking the tylenol to see if it would stay down, or if it was just because of the tylenol. He’d gone upstairs for a shower. He hadn’t seen Ian since this morning, but he heard Ian and Mickey fucking giggling to themselves when he passed their room. He’d totally rip into them later for giggling like little girls but the fact they were laughing at all made Carl feel less sick than the tylenol did. </p><p>Lip had brought Freddie, Tami, and a pizza. Everyone was there which was kind of weird but it was also kind of nice to all be together for once. Ian and Carl weren’t really eating the pizza. Ian had been nursing a can of ginger ale, taking sips of it throughout dinner and ate the peanut butter and toast Mickey had put in front of him. Mickey was trying not to look pleased about it but it looked more like he was sucking a lemon.</p><p>Carl hadn’t gotten sick again but his stomach kept feeling weird on and off. He considered making toast too. He’d been listening and participating in conversations in an out. The topic suddenly changed and the whole table fell silent for a few seconds. </p><p>“So, are you guys going to report or sue?” Tami asked Ian and Mickey.</p><p>“What?” Mickey asked. </p><p>“The doctor that gave Ian a bad pill,” Tami said. </p><p>They all looked at Mickey and Ian. Ian basically in Mickey’s lap but they both looked relaxed for once. Tami’s question immediately ruined that, and Carl wanted to kick her shins hard. Ian and and Mickey looked at each other.</p><p>“I..I don’t know,” Ian said, sounding confused and upset. “I didn’t really think of it. I…” He looked at Mickey like he was completely lost. The question had really thrown him and Mickey was sitting there with pursed lips. “Mickey,” Ian said as they continued to take in the question.</p><p>Ian wasn’t really the type to get thrown off by uncomfortable questions but Ian was feeling pretty shitty. Watching Ian’s lost face made Carl remember that Ian probably felt like shit emotionally too. Which was the whole fucking point of why he was sick to begin with. Carl had been thinking so much about it physically. He had thought about the emotional aspect, especially this morning trying to get Ian to take his meds, but he was just kind of blown away trying to think about how he’d feel if he were Ian right now.</p><p>Mickey rubbed a hand on Ian’s back. “Hey,” Mickey said gently. “We’re not worrying about anything like that right now okay? Getting you back on your feet is the only thing we are going to worry about, okay?” Ian nodded. Mickey raised his eyebrows at Tami and gave her a your fucking kidding me look.</p><p>To Tami’s credit, she did look like she felt bad for bringing it up. “I’m sorry, you’re right. Of course that’s what you should focus on,” Tami said trying to catch Ian’s eye but Ian wasn’t looking at her. </p><p>They were saved from trying to figure out what to do next by Franny. </p><p>“Hey!” She gasped. “Freddie no! That’s mine!” Freddie was in a high chair next to Franny and he had reached over and it was trying to grab a chicken nugget Debbie had given her with the pizza.</p><p>“Mine!” Freddie repeated. Carl wasn’t sure if he was actually trying to claim the chicken nugget or just repeating the last thing Franny had said. Franny pulled the chicken nugget out of his reach. “No, silly.,” she giggled. “You have to ask your mommy or daddy if you can have that.” </p><p>“Freddie,” Tami gently scolded. “You can’t take food from other people’s plates. It’s very rude.” </p><p>“You have to ask bud,” Lip said. “You have to say can I have that please?” Carl rolled his eyes.They always talked to the kid like he could actually form a full sentence already when he was still just shouting words and sounds.</p><p>“Pease, pease,” Freddie chirped. </p><p>“Yeah, good job,” Lip said. “You say please.” </p><p>Tami looked at Franny and Franny shrugged. Franny handed her the piece Freddie had been grabbing with his slobbery hands. Franny didn’t want to eat that. Tami broke the chicken into a little piece and gave it to Freddie. </p><p>“Say thank you to Franny,” Tami cooed. “Thank you!” </p><p>“You!” Freddie said and clapped.</p><p>Franny was giggling. “You’re welcome.”</p><p>Carl looked over at Ian realizing he’d been oddly silent. Ian was always talking to Freddie and Franny or looking at them with this big dopey grin on his face like they were the best thing he’d ever seen besides Mickey.</p><p>Ian was looking at the floor, any relaxation that was in his face earlier was gone. Mickey whispered something in his ears and nudged Ian to stand up. Everyone turned to look at them. <br/>“I’ll come back to clean our dishes,” Mickey said and guided Ian upstairs. Neither of them giving an explanation for leaving. </p><p>Carl felt that weird anger he’d felt against Lip a few days ago, as he watched Ian and Mickey go up the stairs. Fuck Tami for ruining that. Carl turned and glared at her. “Wow, thanks a fucking lot.” he spat.</p><p>Tami’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry,” she said, actually sounding sorry. “I didn’t mean to do anything.” </p><p>“Yeah, we know Tami,” Debbie said. She shot a look at Carl.</p><p>“Well have some fucking tact next time,” Carl threw, ingnoring Tami and Debbie. </p><p>Debbie turned to him and scoffed. “You’re the last person to be telling anyone about tact, Carl.” </p><p>Before Carl could open his mouth, Lip raised his hands. “Okay, enough,” he said in that brother voice again. “No one meant to upset anyone and everyone is stressed out, so let’s just calm down here.”</p><p>Lip telling them what to do like children just fanned the flames to Carl’s anger. The worst part was he knew that Lip was right but he was still so fucking angry anyway that it was taking over any logic. He didn’t want to make the situation worse so he pushed his chair back and slammed the door to the basement. </p><p>It was quiet and then Carl heard Liam tell Franny to come play with him. He flopped on his bed and turned music on loud enough so that when the speaker was by his ear, he couldn’t hear anything else, but wasn’t blaring it through the whole house. Carl shut his eyes and tried breathing slowly, and zoning out for a while. Lip was at the end of the bed, kicking it to get Carl’s attention. Carl sat up and turned the music off. </p><p>“If you’re down here to give me shit because I got mad at your girlfriend, you can just go,” Carl said. He tried to make himself sound bored as if he didn’t give a fuck.</p><p>“I’m not. There’s nothing else to say about it,” Lip said. Lip sat down in Carl’s new fancy chair which Carl gritted his teeth at, but let go. </p><p>Carl groaned in frustration. “You’re right, okay? And I knew you were right but I was still so mad!” </p><p>“I know,” Lip said. “Walking away is sometimes the right thing to do.” </p><p>Carl nodded but said nothing.</p><p>“Don’t make it bigger than it is. I’m sure Tami would appreciate an apology but she’s not really that upset with you,” Lip tried to reassure Carl.</p><p>Carl picked at a thread on his blanket, while Lip just calmly sat drinking a coke. Lip knew he’d eventually start talking.</p><p>There were a million things going through Carl’s head about the last few days. The one thing that kept running through his mind, was how the hell did Lip deal with this shit all the time? </p><p>“How do you do this?” Carl said looking at his older brother.</p><p>“Gotta be more specific there,” Lip responded. </p><p>“How do you keep track of everyone’s shit and hold it together for everyone else? You’re so good at it,” Carl asked earnestly. He really hoped Lip had some secret method he could use.</p><p>Lip raised his eyebrows and started laughing. “I’m actually terrible at it, but thanks dude.” </p><p>“Well I had to do it for like one day and fell apart,” Carl grumbled. </p><p>Lip was still laughing. “You really think I don’t too?” </p><p>“I’ve never seen you do it really. I don’t remember you doing it as kids,” Carl shrugged.</p><p>“Yeah, because you were a kid so you we didn’t actually let you see much, and you honestly weren’t really paying that much attention. You were too busy running around with a book of matches,” Lip told him, smiling at remembering a younger Carl.</p><p>“You were a kid too,” Carl pointed out.</p><p>Lip waived his hand. “I freaked out all the time. Especially with Fiona and the coke.”</p><p>“Yeah, I do remember that but you just were extra tense. You didn’t like completely lose your shit and cry uncontrollably,” Carl said.</p><p>“Yeah, but how do you think I ended up an alcoholic?” Lip raised his eyebrows at him.</p><p>Oh.L ip watched the understanding dawn on Carl’s face. “Exactly,” Lip nodded.</p><p>Carl didn’t really know what to say to that so he asked a different question. “Don’t you ever just want to punch something or scream or cry… about Ian?” Carl looked hesitantly at Lip. He hoped Lip understood what he meant. </p><p>Lip’s face darkened. “Yeah. All the time,” Lip said forlornly. </p><p>Lip shook his head a little bit. “I guess I’ve tried to get myself to accept the situation. I don’t mean roll over and die. I mean realize this is reality and wishing differently won’t do shit.” </p><p>Carl thought about that for a few seconds. “I don’t think I really got how much this really is a disease, until recently. That’s dumb, right?” </p><p>“Not really,” Lip answered. “You were and are still pretty young dude. It’s a hard thing to understand, especially because it feels like it’s fucking killing you inside.” </p><p>Carl’s chest hurt.</p><p>Lip continued, keeping his eyes on Carl’s face even though Carl couldn’t get himself to look at Lip. “Because it’s not fair. It’s not fair that Ian had plans and had the ability and determination to do it, and then he got sick. It’s not fair that he does everything the doctor tells him to do, and it still isn’t enough. It’s not fair that Ian’s life revolves around managing his bipolar. It’s not fair that he can get so far and then it’s snatched out of his hands, no matter what he does. So how does anyone survive that devastation? Repeatedly.” </p><p>Carl didn’t say anything. He hadn’t exactly thought about it as eloquently, but yeah. That hit the nail on the head. That was fucking it. </p><p>Lip bumped his toe. “Sound about right, kiddo?” </p><p>There was a huge lump in Carl’s throat and tears pricking his eyes. He tried to swallow but it didn’t go anywhere so he tried clearing his throat. “Yeah, that’s right,” Carl choked out.</p><p>Lip got up and sat next to Carl on the bed so they were touching. Carl didn’t push him off so Lip put his arm around Carl’s shoulder. Carl let him. This was the last time he was letting him. This was it. It had to be the last time.</p><p>Lip pushed Carl’s head onto his shoulder. Carl left it there and turned in closer to his brother.</p><p>“Ian said,” Carl’s voice wavered. He was going to cry again. God damn it. He started again. “Ian said to Mickey this morning that he always feels bad… is that true?” </p><p>God Carl sounded like a little kid begging to be told Santa was real. Although everyone who ever grew up on the South Side never believed in Santa to begin with. It’s not like anyone had enough money to pull off the charade. </p><p>Carl felt Lip sigh against him. “No, I don’t think so,” Lip said slowly. He stopped and cleared his throat. “No,” he said more confidently. “He just feels that way right now. He knows it’s not true too.” </p><p>Carl sniffed. Lip pulled him closer for a few seconds. “He has been happy. He can be happy again. Even if it just keeps looking different and he has to keep figuring out. Which sucks like all hell, but he always gets there again.”</p><p>Lip had so much faith about it that Carl realized he was crying again. At least he wasn’t sobbing, just sniffling and tearing. It’s not that Carl didn’t believe in Ian. Carl didn’t believe in the universe not to fuck Ian over. How many times can someone get fucked over and still try again? What if Ian just couldn’t try anymore? What did that mean for the rest of them? If Ian, the strongest person Carl knows, can’t do it, they’re all fucked.</p><p>Fuck. His breath hitched and he cried slightly harder. Lip pulled away to look at Carl’s face. “Aw shit, buddy,” he murmured. </p><p>Lip backed up so he was sitting against the headboard and the pillows and tugged Carl’s shirt for him to follow. Carl let Lip pull him so he was against Lip and wrapped up like Carl had been the other night.</p><p>Carl reminded himself that this was the last time he was letting Lip coddle him. The last time he’d let Lip coddle him. The last time he would allow himself to want to be coddled.</p><p>“You think Ian gets tired of having to do that over and over again?” Carl whispered. It felt like a curse he shouldn’t be saying out loud. </p><p>Lip rubbed his arm. “Yeah, he does. When he says stuff like he feels bad all the time, he’s tired.” </p><p>Carl’s crying was irritating his cough. He started coughing against Lip and tried to pull away to spare him but Lip wouldn’t let him. “I changed your diapers, I don’t give a fuck if you cough on me,” Lip told him softly. </p><p>“I need you to really listen to me now, okay?” Lip said, trying to capture Carl’s eyes. “Okay?” He said again. </p><p>Carl looked in his eyes. “Yeah. Listening.” </p><p>“Ian has things going for him, Carl. He has people who love him. We love him. He has the sort of relationship with Mickey that most of us are just going to dream about. He loves us and he loves Mickey. And, he’s really fucking stubborn.” Lip kissed the top of his head. </p><p>“I promise you really don’t have to worry so much,” Lip said. “Okay?” Carl nodded. The movement caused him to get snot all over Lip’s shirt. “He’s going to be fine,” Lip reiterated. He pushed Carl’s hair back. “He’s got you.” </p><p>It took a second for that to sink in. “What?” Carl asked. </p><p>Lip smiled and elbowed him. “He’s got you dumbass, to help him.” </p><p>Carl shook his head. “No, I don’t help him,” he choked out to Lip. His tears had been slowing but they were starting up again. </p><p>“Yeah, you do. You help Mickey which means you help Ian. Mickey trusts you,” Lip said. “He trusted you on Tuesday to help him take Ian to the hospital. I know he talks to you sometimes about his own stuff, which is huge because it is hard for him to do that.” Lip smiled at him and squeezed him. </p><p>“You’re also the best at not treating Ian any differently,” Lip said. “We all have to learn how to do it. You just do it. Why do you think he’d only hang around you when he first got diagnosed?” </p><p>Carl didn’t know what to say. It was too much . Lip had to be wrong. “Just think about it,” Lip said. </p><p>“Hey! What are you two doing without me?” LIam yelled as he clattered down the steps. He froze looking at Carl wiping his eyes and taking deep breaths, while Lip held him. Carl leaned back, and Lip let him go but didn’t stop sitting next to him. </p><p>Liam’s eyes were wide but then he smiled. He came over to the bed and climbed on so he was sitting in front of Carl and Lip. “You’re cuddling without me? That’s so rude. I’m the baby. Where’s my hug?” He grinned cheekily at them.</p><p>Carl and Lip looked at each other, an understanding passing between them. They also grinned. </p><p>“Oh so you want a hug, huh?” Carl tackled Liam so his back was on the bed and then scooped him up.  Lip was tickling him and trying to give Liam Wet Willies. Liam hated when someone stuck their spitty finger into his ear. So he screamed but he was laughing.</p><p>“No Hey!” He squirmed out of Carl’s grasp only to be grabbed by Lip. “Hey!” </p><p>“You said you wanted hugs?” Lip said before peppering him with sloppy kisses. </p><p>“Aah you’re disgusting!” LIam kept laughing and screaming while they tackled him until Liam farted. Really loudly. Carl and Lip stopped to look at him incredulously. They started to smell it. Liam was grinning triumphantly at them. While they were distracted he scampered away and ran up the steps. </p><p>“Hey!” Carl chased him, laughing. “You get back here! You just farted in my bed!” </p><p>Carl would normally run and grab him again but he was too tired to do it so he just kinda stumbled after Liam laughing. Lip was out of breath behind him and had given up to sit down and laugh. </p><p>Mickey was walking down the stairs. “What the fuck are you all doing?” </p><p>Mickey watched Carl and Liam run around the couch. “Oh I see,” he grinned. He ran over and scooped Liam up so he was slung over his shoulder. </p><p>“Mickey!” Liam shrieked and  lightly pounded Mickey’s back until he let go.</p><p>Once Liam was free he was panting and yelled, “Okay, now everyone go get Franny!” <br/>Franny shrieked in delight at being chased and picked up by Mickey and Liam. Carl was too tired to do anything but watch from his spot on the step. </p><p>Debbie was laughing but also standing with her hands on her hips trying to look stern. “You’re all riling her up before bed time!” </p><p>Carl twisted his neck to stretch it out and did the same to the other side. Ian was sitting quietly a  few stairs above him, peering down at the scene in front of him. Carl hadn’t even noticed that Ian was there at all. Ian was smiling softly as he watched and Carl thought that Ian should be laughing instead. Then Ian looked over and caught his eye and grinned at him, before turning back. HIs eyes were laughing. </p><p>Carl breathed out a little bit, and tried to do what Lip said. Not worry so much because Ian had them and they would take care of him..</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Part Ten</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Carl has his date with Sylvia before his health turns for the worse.<br/>**Vomiting mention**</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Uh so this is a little dramatic? Sorry? I was going to scrap it and do something else but this kinda just stuck.<br/>**Carl vomits*** again. Since I seem to be making him do that a lot and then making him to go sleep. </p><p>I also have no idea how to write romance, or like any sort of budding interest between characters, so this is awful. Sorry</p><p>I'd like to think Tami and Lip have some sort of supportive relationship with each other, somewhere.  Even if they don't, I wrote it that way since they deserve that.</p><p>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Carl forced himself to go to work armed with cough medicine and ibprofen. They took one look at him and put him on desk duty. He was glad they didn’t just send them home, but it looked like they were short on people today. And it was Saturday. They needed people on Saturdays. </p><p>Even though all Carl did was answer the phone and click around on the computer, he was exhausted by lunch. He suddenly remembered he had a date with Sylvia. Fuck. If he couldn’t get through just sitting around, there was no way he could handle the whole process of going somewhere.</p><p>To Sylvia 1:12pm </p><p>So...we were going to get burgers. I got sick the last few days. I feel like shit. But I don’t want to cancel on you because I was looking forward to it. So this is lame, but we could just… facetime? Burgers another time?</p><p>Ew, he just said he was looking forward to it but girls loved that shit. And it wasn’t a lie.</p><p>From Sylvia 12:20pm</p><p>Another time? </p><p>Carl realized what he’d said and flinched. Who said there would be another time? He was trying to figure out what to say back when the bubble with the typing came back up, so he waited. </p><p>From Sylvia 12:21pm</p><p>If you’re sick we honestly don’t have to do anything. But if you think you’re okay to facetime...then yeah, let’s do it.</p><p>--</p><p>Carl tried to make his hair look less crazy. He really should shower but that was a lot of work. This would just have to do. It’s not like he wouldn’t be hacking up a lung half the time anyway, which isn’t really attractive either. </p><p>Carl felt bad that he had drastically changed the date and what not, so he initiated the call. He hoped that helped portray he really did want to hang out.</p><p>She answered the call and smiled at him. It was cheesy and cliche, but his breath caught in this throat for a second. Not that it wasn’t already doing that all the time anyway but thankfully he didn’t start coughing. She had her black hair up, and looked like she was wearing a purple hoodie. </p><p>“Hey,” Carl said.<br/>
“Hey,” Sylvia said back.</p><p>Carl scratched his nose. “Uhh, thanks for accommodating and all…” </p><p>“Of course. How are you? Other than sick I mean?” She said looking at him with her sincere eyes.</p><p>Oh. Carl hadn’t thought about how he was today beyond that he felt sick. He was nervous and excited to be talking with Sylvia, but his overall mood was pretty low. That kind of scared him but he’d have to deal with it later.</p><p>“Oh, I’m...fine,” Carl said. “How are you?” </p><p>If she had noticed Carl’s awkward answer she ignored it. “I’m okay. I had off today so that was nice.” </p><p>“Cool,” Carl said and pinched himself. What the hell was that? “How’s the baby stuff going?” </p><p>“It’s okay, I think,” she said shrugging. “I don’t live with them but she was really cute. I think it’ll be fun when she’s a bit older and does more than cry and poop.” </p><p>Carl laughed. “Yeah, it’s better once they get past that point.” </p><p>“So you have a niece or nephew?” She inferred.</p><p>“Yeah, I’ve got a niece and a nephew. My nephew is still mostly in the cry and poop stage of things though,” Carl said grinning. “Thankfully, my brother moved down the street so none of us have to deal with that stuff 24/7.” </p><p>“Yeah,” Sylvia said. “So what about your niece?” </p><p>“Franny? She’s 4, and she’s going to kill all of us with how loud she is all the time. She’s cute, but is so cranky at night. So god help you, if you’re taking her to bed.” </p><p>Sylia grimaced in sympathy. “Being grumpy at night is totally valid though. She lives with you? </p><p>“Yeah. My brother with the baby is the only one who moved out. I’ve got five siblings. And a niece, and brother-in-law,” Carl said. He watched her reaction. Sometimes girls got really judgemental once he shared this information for one reason or another. Like, why was he still living with his family or they decided they were white trash. She didn’t look judgemental at all. </p><p>“You got any siblings?” He asked her. </p><p>Her face flashed with a small amount of pain before she cheerfully answered. “Yeah, 2 sisters.” She didn’t add any other details and Carl could tell that she really didn’t want to share anymore. He tried to think of a different subject but was interrupted by footsteps clambering down.</p><p> MIckey appeared halfway down the stairs but Carl tried to ignore him. “Yo, we’re going to watch a movie. Me, Ian, and Liam.”</p><p>“Sorry,” Carl quickly muttered and covered the camera with his hand and tried to muffle the microphone.</p><p>“What the fuck? I told you I was going to be busy,” Carl hissed.</p><p>“Oh, right. Sorry. Forgot,” Mickey said but he was biting a sarcastic smile.</p><p>“No you didn’t you fucker. Now get out!” </p><p>Carl waited for the door to slam and went back to the phone. “Uh, sorry about that.”</p><p>“It’s cool,” Sylvia waved her hand. “My parents do that to me all the time. Was that one of your brothers?” </p><p>So here was the other thing Carl always had to watch out for, so his stomach clenched a bit. “Nah, that was my brother’s husband. He thinks he’s fucking hilarious,” he said. She didn’t really react other than to laugh. There was no jugement. Okay. His stomach unclenched. </p><p>He felt like he was dominating the conversation even though she was the one asking him questions. “So, veggie burgers?” He said smiling, eyebrows raised.</p><p>She huffed. “Yeah, I’m a vegetarian.” </p><p>“Dang,” he said, shaking his head. </p><p>“Come on, you’ve never had a veggie burger before? They’re so many in the store,” she asked. Well no because they probably couldn’t afford that shit but they’d also never thought about veggie burgers at all.</p><p>“Nope,” he said. </p><p>She sat back. “Wow. We’re going to have to fix that,” she said. They paused and looked at each other realizing what the implications of what she said meant. </p><p>Carl cleared his throat, which made him start coughing. “Sorry, sorry,” he apologized.<br/>
“I’ll try it as long as they don’t taste like grass and cow shit.” </p><p>She rolled her eyes. “Oh god, you’re one of those,” she started laughing.</p><p>“One of what?” Carl asked, confused.</p><p>“Someone who thinks all vegetarian food tastes bad,” she said smirking.</p><p>“Oh. Well I’ve never had any,” he told her.</p><p>She raised her eyebrows at him and laughed again. “Really? You ever had pasta? Eaten an apple? Pizza? Mac and cheese? Carrots?” </p><p>“Oh,” Carl said again feeling stupid. She was looking at him like he was ridiculous but adorable. He didn’t know how he felt about that. </p><p>“Don’t worry, most people think that way,” she reassured him. “It just gets funny after a while.” </p><p>Okay she could think he was adorable. </p><p>“Right,” he said, turning red and looking down. </p><p>‘Hey,” Sylvia said. He looked up and she continued more gently. “I wasn’t trying to make fun of you, sorry.” </p><p>Carl smiled. “I know. I can see how it is funny. I’m just in a weird mood. Been a weird week. Sorry.” </p><p>She just kind of looked at him and let him get himself together. He was struggling. Is this how normal people dated? You asked each other questions about yourselves? You didn’t just go immediatly to fucking or running a whole tamales operation in your kitchen? </p><p>She seemed kind of normal to him. As in, not utterly fucked for life like they were. But he didn’t actually know that, so he pushed the impulse to feel bitter towards someone he perceived as having it better than him. He hated feeling that. And he really didn’t know Sylvia’s life anyway. Even if her life sucked, there was nothing that could ever top the craziness of his family.</p><p>“So you had off? What do you do?” Carl felt kind of triumphant at asking a question. That was a good question right? </p><p>“Oh. I’m in school but I work as a waitress,” she said. Holy shit, was she not 18, fuck.</p><p>“School?” </p><p>“College. I’m getting a teaching degree,” she said </p><p>Carl’s heart stopped racing at the clarification. She sounded proud of herself but not arrogant. Well shit, if he could be that smart Carl would probably be proud of himself too.</p><p>“Oh wow, that’s awesome,” Carl said. </p><p>“Thanks. What about you?” She asked him ,looking at him with interest in her bright blue eyes.</p><p>Uh well this was also awkward too. On one hand Carl was proud of being a cop. On the other, he still had conflicted feelings about it because well, it was him first of all. He’d never been a law abiding citizen before. Then, he knew all of these people he kept running into during arrests. And then there’s the fact that he has a black little brother who is terrified of police for the most part. Carl doesn’t really disagree with him. He’s had nightmares where he’s on a call and it’s Liam and his partner is an asshole and Liam gets shot... Shit’s fucked up. But people had a lot of feelings about that.</p><p>“Um, I’m a cop.”  He told her “In training, mostly,” he added awkwardly. He waited, holding his breath for her reaction until he started coughing again.</p><p>“Wow, you’ve got like, a real person adult job,” She said. She looked genuinely amazed. </p><p>“Yeah, I guess,” he shrugged. </p><p>Sylvia tilted her head a little bit and her eyes narrowed slightly. Carl felt a bit like when Mickey just x-ray visions you. “Sounds like it’s gotta be complicated. You know?” She said gesturing around her. Probably meaning well, the entire shitty world. </p><p>“Yeah,” he said, heavily. </p><p>She let that sit for a minute and then brightly said, “So let’s play a game.” She was smirking. </p><p>“Okay,” Carl said apprehensively. </p><p>“You ever play never have I ever?” She asked him.</p><p>“Not really,” he replied.</p><p>“Okay, I’ll make it easy. I’ll list something and we both respond if we’ve done it,” she said excitedly. </p><p>“No judgement allowed either, okay?” She said. He didn’t know if Sylvia had seen something in his face or whatever but he felt a little more relaxed at that. </p><p>“Definitely,” he smiled at her. “What’s the question?”</p><p>“Have you ever gotten a tattoo?” She asked.</p><p>Well that really wasn’t so bad of a question. “Nah. You?” </p><p>“Not yet. I keep changing my mind what I want which is a problem when the thing is permanently stuck to you,” she laughed.</p><p>“Yeah, that’s a good point,” Carl said.</p><p>“Have you ever broken a bone?” She continued.</p><p>“Yeah. I tried to use a piece of wood as a ramp on the porch for my bike when I was a kid. My dumbass just fell straight off at the bottom, and I broke my arm,” he said. He laughed a bit at himself. “You?” </p><p>“Yeah, but it’s not nearly as interesting as that. I fell on black ice, hard. I tried to get up again, but I fell the same way. I broke my hand.” She shrugged.</p><p>“Ouch,” Carl said.</p><p>:Yeah, apparently ti’s a bad idea to try to brace your falls with your hands even though that’s what we naturally do,” she said. </p><p>“Gotta remember that,” Carl said, smiling. </p><p>“How about have you ever skipped school?” </p><p>Carl started laughing. Why was this a question? Everyone skipped school around his neighborhood.Like was it meant to be edgy? “Yeah, of course. I skipped the hell out of school. Didn’t you?” </p><p>“Actually, no,” she said, smirking a little. </p><p>“Ah,” Carl said mischievously. “So you’re one of those?” He asked using the same phrase back at her. </p><p>She laughed. “Yeah, I guess I am.” </p><p>“Well it obviously worked out,” Carl said. “You’re in college and shit.” </p><p>“Guess so,” she said, shaking her head. “Okay, have you ever met a celebrity?” </p><p>“No, but I wish!” </p><p>“Same. What about,” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Sent nudes?” </p><p>Carl turned red. “Um, maybe?”</p><p>“So yes. It’s okay my answer is yes too,” she said, regarding him with what looked like amusement. </p><p>“Done drugs?” She said.</p><p>“Who hasn’t around here? Yes,” Carl said, laughing.</p><p>“Same. I didn’t like it much though.” She looked kind of nervous saying that. </p><p>Carl had been a fucking drug dealer. A good one. But he honestly never really liked taking the drugs. Weed was okay, but smack scared the shit out of him the one time he tried it. Pain pills also freaked him out. He didn’t really see how any of this was supposed to make you feel good. Maybe he hadn’t tried it enough times, but he definitely didn’t have any interest in finding out.</p><p>“I don’t either,” Carl said, trying to make sure it didn’t sound like a big deal. Since she seemed so nervous about it. </p><p>“Really? Everyone else loves it,” she said. </p><p>“Yeah really, seen some shit.” Carl didn’t elaborate further. “Got another question?”</p><p>She started laughing. “Wow this one is weird. Have you ever used the bathroom in the dark?” </p><p>Carl laughed too. “What the hell is that supposed to help you figure out about someone?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” she said. “But probably? I don’t really remember but probably when the power has gotten knocked out from storms.” </p><p>“Yeah, we've had our power shut off enough times that I can say yes with certainty,” he said. Shit. He’d just kind of revealed that he was well, poor as fucking shit.</p><p>“Huh,” she said but didn’t really give any other reaction. “Got an instagram?” </p><p>“Yeah, but I don’t really use it.” </p><p>She scoffed. “Guys say that all the time and then it’s just 500 pictures of themselves sucking their stomachs in front of their mirror.” </p><p>“No, I’m serious,” he said. “Here I’ll text you my handle.”</p><p>““Carlgdog?” She looked at him. “Seriously?”</p><p>“Yeah. Why you got a better handle?” He waited for the text. “Okay, I guess sisi_m98 is less weird.” </p><p>She laughed. “Yeah, you really don’t post anything do you?” </p><p>He got a notification that she followed him anyway. He honestly didn’t look at instagram anymore because his drug run days were done, but he followed her too.. He was pretty sure the last thing he’d posted was when they went to Lake Michigan for a day like two years ago. A nice landscape picture. </p><p>“I told you,” he said grinning at her smugly. His voice sounded hoarse. He started coughing again. He was starting to notice he felt cold again. </p><p>“You look like you’re fading. Let’s hang up? I had fun. Talk again?” She looked shy.</p><p>Carl cleared his throat to try to get a hold on his voice. “I had fun. Definitely talk again. Maybe actually hang out soon.”</p><p>“I’d like that. See ya,” she hung up the call and Sylvia no longer filled his screen. </p><p>He didn’t really have time to think about their sort of date. His stomach rolled. He bolted up the steps and flung the bathroom door open. There went what little he had for dinner.</p><p>Carl heard footsteps behind him. He hadn’t thought to shut the door. He caught a glimpse of Mickey before he turned around and got sick again. The pulse in his head became like an ice pick with each retch. Fuck. </p><p>He put his head down on the toilet seat. </p><p>“No, man, don’t fucking lean on that,” Mickey said. He pulled Carl back and positioned him so he was sitting against the wall. Carl squeezed his eyes shut. His eyes were watering from getting sick. </p><p>Mickey crouched in front of him, and palmed the bag of his head. “What the fuck Carl?” </p><p>He stood up. “That thermometer down there?” Carl grunted in response. He pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his head on top of them. Where was this coming from? He was getting better and now it’s like someone decided to bulldoze him. How did he go from feeling kinda crappy to really fucking horrible so fast?</p><p>Mickey came back up and stuck the thermometer in Carl’s ear. Mickey pulled it out at the beep. “What the fuck? 103?” </p><p>“Meds,” Carl pointed weakly at the cabinet with everyone’s prescription shit. </p><p>“The migraine ones? Both?”</p><p>“‘Mhhm,” Carl said. Mickey came back and crouched in front of him. Carl pointed to the blister pack. “Two.”  Mickey put them in his hands. </p><p>“Water?”</p><p>Carl shook his head and put the tablets under his tongue and waited for them to dissolve.</p><p>“What is this shit?” Mickey inspected the blister pack. “Zofran?” </p><p>“Anti-nausea,” Carl grunted. He pointed at the other pills. The ones he’d taken the other night. Mickey opened the bottle. “How many?” </p><p>“One. Water.” Carl took that too. </p><p>“You good?” Mickey said gesturing to the toilet. Carl nodded and tried to stand up but his legs gave out and crashed back on the floor.</p><p>“Jesus christ,” Mickey muttered. He pulled Carl off the floor and carried him bridal style. Carl was a lot smaller than Ian. He dropped him on the couch. “Your fever is too high,” Mickey informed him.</p><p>Carl’s head was hot and fuzzy. Stuff was blurring at the edges of his vision. He jolted when Mickey started putting frozen vegetables under his armpits and on his forehead and neck. </p><p>“Cold,” Carl groaned trying to get them off. </p><p>“No shit,” Mickey said. “You gotta leave them there.” </p><p>Mickey pulled out his phone. Carl could only concentrate on parts of the conversation. </p><p>“You know more about him right now than I do! He’s not Ian!”</p><p>“Make Debbie watch him then!” </p><p>“Who gives a fuck, she needs to help out around here.” </p><p>Mickey hung up the phone and sat on the coffee table looking at Carl. “We’re gonna put you in the bath,” Mickey said more to himself than Carl, like he was making a decision. He picked Carl up again and brought him to the bathroom. Mickey took off his sweatshirt and sweatpants but left him in this t-shirt and boxers. The water turned on. Carl was placed in the tub with freezing cold shower water falling on him, and accumulating in the tub Mickey had plugged. Carl gasped and tried to get out. But Mickey had his hands on his shoulder and back. “You gotta stay here, kid.” </p><p>What? Things weren’t making much sense anymore.He heard Lip’s voice and Freddie’s crying. He watched Mickey take Freddie from Lip and bounce him on his hip. He pushed open Debbie’s door furiously at the same time. He started talking harshly but was still gently holding the baby. </p><p>Lip was kneeling by the tub, and his hands were all over him. Lip was saying something to him in a soothing voice but he couldn’t really hear it which was funny because he was closer to Carl than Debbie and Mickey, and that's all he heard. </p><p>“I really don’t give a fuck. Get over here.” Mickey’s voice got closer. A flash of long red hair was in his vision for a few seconds. Debbie.</p><p>“Fucking look at him!” Mickey yelled. He heard them move away. The shitty accordian door groaned. “Now fucking look at him!”</p><p>Carl’s head had died down but that yell pierced his brain. He pulled his knees up to his chest and gripped his hair, as if that could get the pain out. He was shaking. Lip was petting his hair. He needed to tell Lip to stop. No more coddling bullshit but it wasn’t coming out. </p><p>The accordian door shut again and he heard them go back in the hall. Someone must have told Mickey to quiet down because he started yelling in a loud whisper at Debbie. </p><p>“Those two? You know, your fucking brothers? Are incredibley fucking sick! They’re not doing good emotionally either! All week. It’s been like seven days of this bullshit, more for Ian. Lip and I can’t do this by ourselves!”</p><p>“Liam,” Debbie started to say.</p><p>Lip exploded next to him. Carl’s head was pulsing and Freddie was crying louder. “Liam is a child! He’s at a sleepover for christ sake. He may act way too fucking old for his age and will be helpful, but this? This isn’t for a 10 year old to take on!” </p><p>“Vee,” Debbie started to say again. Not ready to give up whatever it was she was holding onto in this fight. </p><p>“Actually, maybe she could look at Carl, I’ll call her,” Mickey said and his voice disappeared. </p><p>“No, not Vee! You! Debbie! I don’t give a flying fuck what Sandy did. I need you to help me! I need you to help our fucking family!” Lip’s voice broke. </p><p>“What do you want from me?” Debbie said dully. </p><p>“I need you to watch Freddie. Think you can handle that?” Lip spat. </p><p>The sound of Freddie’s cries were muffled by a closed door. Mickey’s voice came back. Carl’s head was not staying up anymore. LIp stripped to his boxers and bit out fuck at how cold the water was. He sat down and pulled Carl to him, bracing his arm around Carl’s waist and placing Carl’s head  on Lip’s shoulder so it wasn’t just hanging around. </p><p>No hugs. No more hugs. No. “No, hugs,” Carl whined. </p><p>“It’s not a hug, it’s so you don’t fall over,” Lip said into his ear. He was petting Carl’s hair.</p><p>“But you petting me,” Carl slurred. </p><p>Lip huffed a laugh. “Tough shit.”  </p><p>Carl tried to open his eyes  but they were too heavy. Why was he still awake? Couldn’t he go to sleep? </p><p>“Vee is coming now,” Mickey said. “Tami?” </p><p>“She’s coming back from that wedding hair designer gig.” </p><p>“Sleep?” Carl said. He poked Lip’s wrist that was resting on his belly. </p><p>“Back up,” Vee’s voice said. “How long has he been in here?” </p><p>“Like five minutes,” Mickey said. </p><p>Five minutes. No way. It had been hours by now. “Sleep?” </p><p>“No baby, not yet,” Veronica’s voice. She gently pried his mouth open. She dropped two pills down, and then some water. Carl instinctively swallowed. </p><p>“Tylenol,” Vee said. Something poked his ear. “It was 103? Well now it’s 102.7 which is better but not great. Get ice, or anything frozen.” </p><p>“No,” Carl said as more cold things were put on him.</p><p>“Lip, hun, you gotta get your heat away from him,” Vee said. </p><p>Carl was pushed up from Lip’s warmth and he groaned. He was pushed against the wall. “Okay, now sit on the edge and make sure he stays up right.” Lip’s hand was bracing his shoulder.</p><p>“Sleep?” Carl said again. Wet stuff was coming out of his eyes. His nose was running. Oh he was crying. Again. </p><p>“Not yet, sweetie,” said Vee. Carl choked on a sob. He didn’t even know why he was crying at this point. Maybe because he felt so shitty and out of control.  “I know, I’m sorry,” Veronica was rubbing her thumb over his cheek bone. </p><p>“If we can’t get this down soon,” Vee started. </p><p>“I know,” Lip finished grimly. “It’s a good thing those meds knock Ian out cold.” </p><p>“Could use his EMT skills, though,” Mickey muttered from somewhere above him. </p><p>“I’m setting a timer for five minutes,” Vee said.</p><p>“Lip? Mickey? Lip?” Tami called as she raced up the steps. “Holy shit,” she breathed out. </p><p>“Fred is with Debbie across the hall, go grab him,” Lip said.</p><p>Footsteps came closer. Carl’s eyes were less heavy so he tried opening them. Fuck it was bright. </p><p>Lip and Tami’s face were to the side of him. “No,” Tami said really gently. Lip was tugged up by his arm and Mickey replaced his grip on Carl. Carl watched amazed as Tami gently took Lip’s face in her hands, and brushed some tears away. Maybe he was hallucinating now. Tami being nice. Whatever, he liked this hallucination because Lip was melting into it. Lip was wrapped in a towel. Tami hugged him. He was shorter, so he could press his face into her shoulder. She rubbed his back.</p><p>Something in his brain was clearing. Carl blinked rapidly. The timer went off. Veronica took his temperature. “Thank fuck,” she exhaled. “102.2 Let’s get him out. The tylenol should be kicking in soon.” </p><p>Mickey lifted him out. He was held against him while someone grabbed a towel. Tami was in front of him while they did this. Carl reached across and tapped her. </p><p>“You’re nice,” he slurred.. He looked at Lip with just one arm around him now. Lip laughed a little bit. Tami gave him a watery smile. Carl was wrapped up and lifted up again. He was dumped on a bed. He curled up. </p><p>“I’m going to grab him some clothes. But I think changing him is uh, your department Lip if you’re up for it.” Mickey said. </p><p>Change him? Like a baby? What the fuck? How did he get here? Why was he so fucking cold? He lifted his head up slightly, but whatever burst of clarity he’d had vanished with the effort it took to lift his head up an inch. </p><p>He blinked and it was just him and Lip, with the door shut. Lip was pulling up his wet shirt. Carl scowled at Lip. “Hey,” Lip said quietly. “You gotta sit up for a minute. Can you put your arms up&gt;” </p><p>“Hmm,” Carl said. He tried but they kind of just flopped back.</p><p>“Okay,” Lip said gently. He worked Carl out of his wet shirt. He patted the towel around him for a second, and then threaded Carl’s arms into a t-shirt. A dry one. That was nice. </p><p>Lip pushed him down so he was laying on his back. “Okay hard part is over.” </p><p>Who was he talking to? His wet boxers disappeared and new ones were put on him. “Not baby,” Carl said. </p><p>“I know,” Lip said as he put Carl’s legs into the sweatpants and pulled them up. “You just need some help right now. Sorry dude.” </p><p>“Humph,” Carl said. Lip was looking at him fondly. He let the others come back. Veronica took his temperature. “101.8.” </p><p>She brushed his hair back from his forehead. “You can go to sleep now baby.”</p><p>“Thank fuck,” he said. Someone laughed. He was out.<br/>
\</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Part Eleven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Carl goes to the doctor and gets a nice text from Sylvia.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was way longer but I ended it at the nice little text exchange because what I wrote after is really sad and I need to write something to follow that part so that chapter isn't just sadness. So sorry in advance for the coming chapter.</p><p>I'm really bad at writing original characters. And I've never written anything where the relationship wasn't already established so, it's going to be clunky. But like canon is not going to give Carl a good girlfriend. </p><p>Thanks for reading always!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He woke up to someone’s knee in his face. HIs head was in someone’s lap. Fucking Lip. “Ugh, Lip, I told you enough with the cuddling bullshit.” </p><p>Carl turned to look up at Lip but it was Ian looking down at him with an amused expression.</p><p>“Oh. You’re up,” Carl said.</p><p>“So are you,” Ian said, smiling. </p><p>“Why am I like in your fucking lap, man?” Carl asked, scrubbing his eyes.</p><p>“For someone who keeps getting bitchy about anyone trying to care about him, you’re not really moving are you?” Mickey said from behind him.</p><p>Shit Carl was still laying like that. Carl sat up to look at Mickey. He was in a chair by the bed with his eyebrows raised. “Fuck you.” </p><p>Ian was looking at him sheepishly, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to cross a boundary or anything. I just heard about what happened last night, and how I was fucking out cold for all of it and didn’t do anything. And that’s fucked up so, I don’t know,I just...It was easier to monitor your temperature this way” Ian met his eyes, pleading for understanding.</p><p>Oh. Well shit. Carl looked at Mickey who was giving him a very pointed look like he better be okay with that because Ian needed him to be. </p><p>Carl shrugged. “Okay, thanks.” </p><p>Ian looked down at his hands. “Uh, no problem.” </p><p>Mickey handed him a water bottle. Carl struggled to twist the cap off with his shaky hands but he got it open before anyone could start doing it for him. Thank god. </p><p>“What’s my temperature now?” Carl asked. </p><p>Ian picked up the thermometer and Carl turned his ear towards him. “101.4.” Ian bit his lip and frowned.</p><p>“What?” Carl asked.</p><p>“Nothing, it’s just getting higher is all,” Ian said. “It’s fine Lip is gonna take you to a doctor soon.”</p><p>Carl groaned. </p><p>Ian looked like he was going to cry. What the fuck? “Hey,” Carl said gently. </p><p>“Carl, just let us fucking do this okay? You don’t have to like it but just fucking let us do it. Let Lip do it. He’s pretty upset because he fucking loves you, man. We all do,” Ian said quietly.  “I know it sucks to have people helping you, especially when you need help to do basic things, trust me, I know.” Ian leaned forward to hold Carl’s gaze about that part. “So please, cut Lip some slack.” </p><p>Carl swallowed a lump in his throat. “I didn’t mean to…,: Carl couldn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t mean to upset anyone. That’s why he had to be pissed so people would stop trying to help him because they all just looked fucking sad. And it was his fault.</p><p>“I know,” Ian said. “But just, think you can do that?” </p><p>Carl was suddenly reminded of all the times Ian had pulled him aside to explain something to Carl and ask him to help with something so things would be better for everyone. It was never a hard thing. It was like doing dishes, or setting tables, or distracting Frank. For a moment, he saw Ian’s freckly 15 year old face looking at his, as Ian crouched on the floor. </p><p>“Okay. I’m sorry,” Carl said. He flopped back down on the bed because he’d only been awake for less than 20 minutes and he was already plunging into crazy town.</p><p>Ian smiled at him and patted his cheek. The door down the hall opened with Lip carrying Freddie, and Tami behind him. He paused briefly when he saw Carl looking at him.</p><p>“Hey, you’re up,” Lip said to him, looking relieved. He handed Freddie to Tami. They had some weird eye conversation that Carl didn’t understand but it ended with Tami squeezing his shoulder before heading downstairs. </p><p>“Is she mad at me?” Carl asked. He didn’t even think that through before it came out of his mouth, shit. </p><p>“Who?” Lip said, coming into the room.</p><p>“Tami,” Carl said. Mickey snorted. Lip turned and looked at him, and Mickey grumbled to himself as he left the room so it was just Carl and his brothers.</p><p>“No, why would she be mad at you?” Lip asked sitting in the chair Mickey had just left. </p><p>Carl blushed. This was childish. He couldn’t believe his brain and mouth just said that without his permission. </p><p>“Because I’m taking you away from her and Freddie,” Carl mumbled. He sounded like a fucking child saying it too. </p><p>Lip made eye contact with Ian, and they did their eye conversations. Everyone and their stupid fucking eye conversations. He was too beat to try to figure them out. </p><p>Lips' voice got really soft like he was explaining something to Carl when he was five.  “You’re not taking me away from anyone. This is how a family works. We work together. I’m still spending time with Freddie, okay? Lots of runny poop this week. So don’t worry about it, huh?” </p><p>Carl wrinkled his nose at the poop comment. “Thanks, I really needed that information,” he told Lip sarcastically.</p><p>“Gotta fulfill my duty as an older brother and pass on the knowledge of the world,” Lip said smirking. Carl rolled his eyes. Lip pulled shoes out from under the bed. “Mickey got these for you from down stairs. Think you can sit up and put them on?” </p><p>There was an unspoken: think you can do it yourself, without help? Carl did it, while thinking about another childish question. </p><p>“Hey Lip?” Carl asked so quietly if Lip wasn’t a foot from him, he wouldn’t have heard Carl. “Are.. are you mad at me?” </p><p>Lip looked like Carl had kicked his chair out from under him. “What?” Lip sat down next to Carl on the bed. “Buddy, no. Where the fuck is this coming from? Someone say something to you?” </p><p>“No, I just,” Carl didn’t really know what he wanted to say. Lip bumped their shoulders. “You just what?” </p><p>“I don’t know!” Carl said loudly. “I’m taking everyone’s time and energy. You look like hell dude, and that’s my fault, alright? I’m sorry!” Carl blurted out..</p><p>“Jesus,” Lip muttered to himself and pinched his nose. Ian had been mostly quiet for the last few minutes, letting Lip talk to Carl. He pulled himself to the edge of the bed so he was on the other side of Carl.</p><p>“You can’t think like that. No one is mad at you. You’re not doing anything to anyone. None of this is your fault. You can’t be doing this to yourself,” Ian said. He put his hand on Carl’s neck and shook it lightly while looking him in the eye. </p><p>Carl didn’t look convinced. Ian sighed. He kept rubbing his eyes. “We’ll talk about it more later. I’m gonna go lie down,” Ian said he kissed the top of Carl’s head.</p><p>Lip dragged Carl through eating some toast, and he filled an old water bottle up with apple juice and handed it to him to bring with them. He dragged Carl to the car. </p><p>He wasn’t actually dragging him. It just felt like that. Carl huddled into his coat and pulled up the hood on his hoodie. Lip flipped the heat on. At a red light, he felt the back of Carl’s forehead. “It’s going up again,” Lip sighed.</p><p>“Why is this taking so long? The clinic is like a ten minute drive,” Carl asked.</p><p>“I’m taking you to a real ass urgent care. Not the free clinic. You’ve got good insurance. You’re going somewhere good,” Lip said. “Which reminds me.“Lip pulled Carl’s phone and wallet out of his jacket pocket and dropped them into Carl’s lap. </p><p>:I don’t know if my card is in there,” Carl said nervously. </p><p>“It is. I checked,” Lip told him. Carl looked at him with his eyebrows raised. </p><p>“I didn’t look at anything else! What you got something in there that you shouldn’t?” He grinned at Carl.</p><p>Carl huffed. “No.” There really wasn’t, it was just weird that someone went through his stuff. </p><p>They pulled into a parking lot five minutes later. Carl was full on shivering now. Lip was at his door waiting for him to get out. When did he get there?<br/>
“Carl! Come on dude.” He sounded like he’d already been repeating his name. </p><p>Carl tried to push himself up, but it wasn’t going so well. Lip hauled him out of the car and wrapped Carl’s arm around his shoulder.  “Well, if you’re gonna get like this again, at least you’re doing it in the best place possible,” Lip muttered.</p><p>He was dropped into a chair. The room was a bright green with actual arm chairs and a fucking fish tank. It was quiet. No peeling paint, metal folding chairs, no shouting.</p><p>Carl was guided through a door. He sat on some crinkly paper. Lip was talking next to him. There was a doctor in front of them. The doctor had him swallow some pills. The doctor made him open his mouth really wide and poked the back of his throat with a q-tip thing. He gagged and then coughed. A trashcan was shoved in front of him but he didn’t really get sick, just a glob of bile and spit came out. The doctor was gone. Lip pushed him so he was laying down on the bed with the weird paper. Someone poked his inner elbow with something. Everyone was doing so much poking, poking, poking. </p><p>He zoned out or dozed for a while before a bunch of sounds came back to him. He didn’t even realize everything sounded muffled before. He lifted his head up a bit. He could see Lip’s hair which was just a messy mop at this point, at the end of the bed. “Lip?” Lip stood up from a chair.</p><p>“Hey,” Lip said. Carl didn’t say anything but just stared at him. “You’ve got strep throat. Good thing is, usually it goes away pretty fast once you get some antibiotics. Your case is pretty bad though dude.” </p><p>Carl tried to move his arm but something tugged. “Yeah, you’re getting some fluids and shit. They put the first dose of antibiotic in there. You just gotta sit there for a bit longer, okay?” Lip told him.</p><p>“I wanna go home,” Carl grumbled. He felt really petulant and cranky and he did not give a fuck. Lip was standing above him looking at him with those stupid soft brother eyes again. </p><p>“Soon, once that bag is empty. Then we go the pharmacy. Then home, Easy.” Lip said like he was talking to a five year old. Carl was kind of annoyed but he also was acting like a fucking five year old and he felt like a fucking five year old. </p><p>He realized Lip was petting his hair again. “No hugs. No pets.” </p><p>Lip rolled his eyes. “You never let anyone hug you when you were a kid either but I think you like it. And I think you could use one. Hugs fix feeling cranky.” </p><p>Car rolled his eyes this time. “Not five.”</p><p>“I’m not talking to you like you’re five, I’m just telling you a fact about hugs,” Lip said. </p><p>“You let Tami hug you,” Carl blurted out. </p><p>Lip gave him an odd look at the slight change in direction of conversation. “Yeah. Hugs help sometimes. I hug her too, so?” Lip raised his eyebrows.</p><p>“Things better now with Tami?” Carl asked. </p><p>Lip smiled. “Yeah, they are.” </p><p>“Hmm, that’s good,” Carl said blearily.</p><p>“Hey! Don’t go to sleep on me yet until we get to the car. I can’t carry you. Look, they’re taking your IV out now.” Lip shook his foot.</p><p>“Weak,” Carl said, smirking. </p><p>Lip rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you want me to admit Mickey is stronger? Fine. He’s stronger. Let’s go slugger.” He was hauled up right and Lip dragged him through the parking lot again.</p><p>Everything else was a blur. Carl waited inside the car while Lip got his medicine. They were in front of the house again and Mickey was there to carry him. He wrapped his arms around Mickey’s neck without thinking about it. Mickey tried to set him down. “Come on, get your fucking octopus arms off me,” Mickey grumbled. </p><p>Carl whined as Mickey pried his arms off and set him on the bed. He definitely did not mean to whine. What the fuck? He curled up back into his usual ball and someone pulled the blanket over him. </p><p>“Where’s Ian?” Lip asked softly. “He up?” </p><p>“In the room, awake. Wouldn’t say he’s feeling up though,” Mickey sighed.</p><p>“Think he’d want to sit with Carl? Get him out of the room, give him a way to take care of someone else, Carl can go squish himself all over him instead of you,” Lip ended laughing.</p><p>“Fuck off,” Mickey said. “Let me go see. He fucking loves that shit.That’s...that’s actually a really fucking good idea...thanks. “</p><p>“Mickey Milkovich admitting I have a good idea, must be the day the sun blows up,” Lip teased. </p><p>A little while later someone climbed in over him and smushed themself against the wall. Carl wasn’t totally asleep so he inched over to give that person more room without thinking about it. </p><p>“You good? Monitor his temperature? Take a nice long fucking nap together,” Mickey was whispering to Ian. </p><p>“Get out,” Ian said, a hint of laughter in this voice. </p><p>--</p><p>There was someone snoring directly in his ear, with their big ass hand resting on his back. Carl glanced over. Oh Ian. Right. Carl’s phone was on the nightstand. He rolled off the bed so he wouldn’t disturb Ian that much. He dragged himself to the bathroom and checked his notifications. Jesus. So many were just pure bullshit that just accumulated from not getting cleared for over a day.</p><p>From Sylvia Saturday 11:00am</p><p> </p><p>Hey, thanks for indulging me with the game. When are you free again?</p><p>From Sylvia Today 9:45am</p><p>Hey… not to be weird but you really didn’t look good when we hung up the other night. I haven’t heard from you, so I just want to know if you’re okay. Sorry if that’s weird. </p><p>Carl felt weirdly warm as he went back to the room and sat in the desk chair. Like a glowing warmth, not a horny warmth. For once. Not that she wasn’t pretty but that’s not where they were headed. He felt cared about. This girl barely knew him and checked up on him. He’s been realizing this past week that being cared about, actually feels really nice instead of keeping everyone at a distance with jokes and sarcasm.</p><p>To Sylvia 4:40pm</p><p>Hey! Sorry. I’ve been pretty sick and haven’t even been thinking about my phone. But I got some medicine, so I should be okay. Thanks for asking. It wasn’t weird. It was fucking nice.<br/>
About being free again, I don’t know? Whenever I can stay awake longer than an hour lol? I’ll let you know when that happens.<br/>
Hope your weekend has been good.</p><p>From Sylvia 5:09pm </p><p>Hey, glad you’re okay now. Whenever you’re up for hanging out let me know.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Part Twelve</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Carl starts figuring out what has been so wrong this whole time. He has an emotional confrontation with his brothers.</p><p> </p><p>**This is not a happy chapter. It discusses death and it's effects pretty intensely. Carl vomits again because of course he does sorry***</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Dun, dun, dun...</p><p>We're at the whole crux of the issue now.  So maybe I'll stop beating Carl up soon.</p><p>Sorry Ian and Carl have to fight here. I did add things as if they were canon that aren't.</p><p>Sorry that this is so sad. I didn't know how to end it because stuff after it just kept being sad. </p><p>Thanks for reading!</p><p>***Intense discussion of death and trauma. Vomiting***</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Carl’s stomach grumbled. Wow, he actually felt hungry. He went downstairs and grabbed a ginger ale. He smirked at the “Ian and Carl ONLY” sign taped to the box in Mickey’s handwriting. He made some toast and spread peanut butter on it, and then sat at the table.</p><p>He found himself scrolling through Sylvia’s instagram. There were a lot of pictures of her and two other girls doing everything from ice skating to watching a movie. They both looked like Sylvia. They were probably Sylvia’s sisters. He scrolled back up to the more recent ones. Those were mostly pictures of a dog. His eye caught on a picture. He stopped.</p><p>It was a picture of a rose on the side of a road with a wallet sized photo of one of the girls in the other pictures. It was dated February 12, 2021. A month ago.It was captioned:</p><p>“They want me to talk about what happened. They say it will help.  But the only person I want to talk to is you. You’re not here anymore. So how will that help?</p><p>Guess we made it through a whole year without you.”</p><p>The comments were a lot of “I’m sorry, I’m thinking of you, RIP in Claire.”</p><p>Carl wasn’t hungry anymore. It all came together... Sylvia’s sister was dead. He didn’t know if Sylvia wanted him to know that but she did give him her instagram. Wasn’t the point for him to look at it? He stared at the picture. It didn’t matter if she wanted him to see it or not. She would maybe or maybe not tell him but that was up to her. He wouldn’t say anything. </p><p>That really fucking sucked. How does anyone keep going with that? She was probably devastated but she was there last week handing him a tissue, still interacting with the world. Simply put, it made him sad.</p><p>He started to imagine if one of his siblings died and stopped. He clicked the screen off and slammed the phone so it was face down. He put his head in his hands. His mind just kept playing images of Ian from earlier this week, where he looked like he was dying. It just kept playing, “he could get suicidal” in Fiona’s voice.</p><p>No. He was not doing this. He was not thinking about this. Ian was fine and upstairs. No. </p><p>He felt sick. He slammed the door to the bathroom shut. He threw up for the millionth time that week, and not because he was sick. Carl hoped no one could hear him right now, because he did not want to explain this. Tears filled his eyes. No. Not doing this again either. No more crying. He put his fist in his mouth and bit down, blinking hard. </p><p>He needed to be alone. He opened the basement door slowly, and shut it slowly. He crept down the steps. You could hear every footstep from upstairs in that house. He was breathing heavily. No crying. He screamed lowly and punched one of the stone walls of the basement. He went over and punched a metal cabinet full of who knows what. Carl pounded it until a fist shaped dent was on the door. If he kept going and only felt the pain in his hand, he wouldn’t cry and he’d stop thinking about Ian.</p><p>That was a really fucking bad idea. He pulled his hand back and shook it. Fuck that hurt. Which was like, well no fucking shit. He stretched out his fingers and pushed them back with his other hand. Didn’t seem like he’d broken anything. His hand still hurt like a motherfucker, and his knuckles were beat to hell. Blood was running down his hand.</p><p>Fuck! He grabbed an old shirt off the floor and wrapped it around his hand. He stumbled back onto the bed. What the fuck? Fuck. When his family sees it, which they will because you can’t hide fucking anything with so many of them, they were never going to leave him alone about it.</p><p>And he definitely did not want to talk about it.  And he definitely didn’t want to think about it. </p><p>He left the shirt on his hand and laid back in bed, crawling under the blankets. He placed his phone near his ear and played it loud until his mind was blank. He didn’t want to have to think or feel anything more. He rolled over and tried to fall asleep, his bloody hand hanging out at his side.</p><p>Carl heard footsteps and people yelling his name. Fuck. He pulled his hand under the blanket and pulled the blanket up to his chin, closed his eyes, and breathed deeply. The door opened, foot steps, and then “he’s down here”. Someone started talking loudly while the person told them to “shut the fuck up” and “be quiet”. “Carl’s sleeping”. The footsteps and the voices faded. The door shut. He breathed a sigh of relief.</p><p>He stirred when someone stuck something cold in his here. Probably checking his temperature, but he refused to open his eyes. He fell asleep again.</p><p>--</p><p>The first thing he noticed when waking up was his hand. For a second he’d forgotten about it, and then it all came back. HIs dumbass hitting the wall. Great going Carl. That really shows being able to handle things. It was throbbing. He looked at it. The shirt wasn’t there anymore so there was just dried blood all over his hand </p><p>The second thing he noticed were snores. Carl turned over and saw Ian sleeping in his chair. What the fuck? “Hey!” Carl yelled. Carl picked up a dirty shirt that was thrown on the bed, and threw it at Ian, hitting him square in the face. </p><p>Thankfully, he wasn’t in one of those really deep sleeps that allowed Ian to sleep through the whole bathroom debacle the other night. Ian jerked up, and looked around. He wiped his eyes. </p><p>“Oh hey,” Ian said, as if it were perfectly normal for him to be right there.</p><p>Carl skipped the pleasantry. “What the hell are you doing down here?” </p><p>Ian looked at him for a few seconds. He reached over the side of the chair and threw a shirt Carl. The bloody shirt. Ian raised his eyebrows at him.</p><p>Well two people could play this game, so Carl just silently stared at Ian. If this were an actual staring contest, Ian would have lost by now. He sucked at it. So Carl was just waiting for Ian to falter. </p><p>Ian blinked but kept eye contact. “I came down here to check your temperature. Your hand was sticking out of the blanket, wrapped up in that bloody shirt. That was kinda alarming so I checked it out…. oh and your medicine is on the nightstand with a bottle of water. Take it now.” </p><p>Carl rolled his eyes but there was really no point about arguing about the medicine because he was going to take it anyway whether someone was there to tell him or not. </p><p>Ian heaved a huge tired sigh. The kind of tired sleeping doesn’t fix even though everyone seems to think it will for Ian. “What happened, Carl?” </p><p>“I punched the wall and then the filing cabinet,” Carl replied, tonelessly. </p><p>“Okay,” Ian responded. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “Why?” </p><p>None of your fucking business,” Carl snarled. He wasn’t sure where the sudden intense anger came from. Fuck. </p><p>Ian considered him for a few seconds. “Okay, well here’s what will probably end up happening. So you don’t talk to me, fine. Someone else sees your hand because there’s no way for you to hide that every second. Odds are, it’s Lip and he freaks out for like two minutes, and then starts grilling you. His patience reserves are pretty empty right now. Even if Lip doesn’t see it first, he will know about it fast.” </p><p>“Okay…?” Carl didn’t see where Ian was going with this. </p><p>“Then you and Lip will probably get in a blow out argument because you still don’t want to talk about it,” Ian paused for effect. “Or, you can talk to me right now while I’m calmly asking you what happened, and not freaking out. So then, Lip will not be up your ass. Well he will anyway, but less up your ass.” </p><p>Ian sat back and threw up his hands. “Your choice, man. Me, Lip, or a big blow out?” </p><p>“Fuck you,” Carl spat. He climbed out of bed and angrily started picking clothes up off the floor. </p><p>“Unless you see another plausible option?” Ian said, remaining calm in the chair.</p><p>“Yeah, I do. Taping all your fat fucking mouths shut with duct tape,” Carl growled. </p><p>Ian sighed but didn’t change his demeanor. “Okay. So where is the duct tape? Do we have any?””</p><p>Carl shook his head and let out a sarcastic laugh. “Go to hell, man.”</p><p>“Do you have to go to the store? How will you get the duct tape on our mouths? Wait until we’re asleep? Punch us in--” </p><p>“Jesus fucking christ, Ian. Stop it. You made your point. Alright?” Carl yelled. He whirled around and threw a pair of pants he’d just picked back on the floor.  </p><p>Ian stopped talking.</p><p>“I don’t have time for this. I have work tomorrow,” Carl snapped at Ian.</p><p>“Your doctor’s note that you’ll have to give to your boss, says two full days after starting the antibiotic. So that’s Monday and Tuesday, and you can go back Wednesday,” Ian informed him.</p><p>“Yeah well fuck the doctor’s note,” Carl said. “She also said it would clear up in 24 hours.” </p><p>Ian rolled his eyes. “Yeah, to clear up the strep and make it so you’re not contagious. Last time I checked like an hour ago, you still had a fever. So you’re not cleared.”</p><p>Carl narrowed his eyes at him. “You miss being an EMT that much that you gotta use me as a replacement? I’m not your doll.” </p><p>Ian’s composure broke. “Your doll?” He scoffed. Ian looked at him so intensely it was like getting an electric shock. Ian had never looked at him like that before. Carl knew from watching enough arguments with Lip and Mickey, that once you got that look, Ian was going in for the kill verbally or physically.</p><p>Carl didn’t think they’d ever truly argued before. Sibling spats didn't count. What the fuck was he doing? Carl stopped and waited for Ian to go at him. But seconds ticked by and then Ian got in his space so Carl backed into the wall. Ian put his arms out in front of him so Carl couldn’t get out. </p><p>“Answer this,” Ian spat. “Do you actually fucking benefit from being this difficult? Like what are you getting out of this right now that is going to help you? I really don’t understand. To save your ego? Because you’re scared? Okay, this just makes those things worse. Not better.” </p><p>Carl had been staring at his feet but he looked into Ian’s eyes and glared at him. He felt that same rage he felt with Lip that resulted with Lip pinning him to the wall. Carl pushed off the wall, and knocked Ian’s arm out of the way. </p><p>Ian didn’t have it there very securely. Carl knew that if Ian had actually wanted to trap him in there, it wouldn’t be as simple as just knocking his arm out of the way. Carl walked over to a table with random junk on it: pens, papers, change, gum packets, lighters and swept his arm across it so that it all crashed off the table onto the floor. He walked around to the other side to get the rest but instead of hitting the table, he accidentally whacked his fucked up hand on the pointed edge of the table. </p><p>“Fuck!” Carl screamed in pain. He backed up holding it. It was bleeding again. </p><p>The basement door banged open and Lip ran down the steps. “Woah what the fuck is going on?”</p><p>Ian immediately walked over to him and was talking to him in a low tone while pushing Lip back up the steps. Lip nodded and glanced back at Carl warily before leaving and shutting the door.</p><p>Carl just stood there holding his hand and staring at the floor, if he even noticed it was there. </p><p>“Can you at least let me take a look at your hand?” Ian asked. </p><p>Carl looked down at it and then back at Ian. He nodded. </p><p>“Thank you,” Ian said in relief. Carl didn’t really understand why he said thank you but he didn’t care. He suddenly felt nothing except for Ian dabbing disinfectant on his knuckles. </p><p>Ian started walking backward holding Carl’s hand gently. “Come on, let’s sit down for this.”  </p><p>They sat on Carl’s bed. Ian put his hand down to grab the first aid kit that Carl guessed Ian had brought down with him.</p><p>Ian gently pushed Carl’s fingers back. Carl hissed. “Sorry,” Ian muttered. He started pressing around Carl’s hand and concentrating on his bones. </p><p>Carl pulled his hand back. “The fuck are you doing?” </p><p>“Trying to see if anything might be broken,” Ian said. “Let me see it.” </p><p>Carl reluctantly gave it back. He tried to hold back any grimaces of pain. Ian took out some gauze for the open skin and started wrapping his hand. He taped it. Then he took a bandage and wrapped it around his whole hand including half of his fingers. </p><p>“I don’t think anything is broken, but I think you really fucking sprained it,” Ian said. “Your entire hand is swollen. It’s going to be a mass of bruises tomorrow.” </p><p>“Great,” Carl muttered. </p><p>Ian pulled a packet of something from the bottom of the first aid box. He snapped it half a few times. He handed it to Carl. It was fucking cold. “You need to ice that for a while,” Ian told him.</p><p>Carl put it on his hand. “Thanks,” he muttered. While Ian packed up the kit, Carl pushed himself back onto his pillows so he could lean against the wall. </p><p>“No,” He said quietly. </p><p>“What?” Ian asked locking the case.</p><p>“Your question. Does that help me? No,” Carl said. He didn’t look at his brother, he was embarrassed and this was basically admitting defeat, which Carl did not like.</p><p>“I don’t want to upset you,” Carl murmured. “Then you’ll think it’s your fault and beat yourself up about it.”</p><p>“LIke you’ve been doing to yourself?” Ian countered.</p><p>“Shut up,” Carl muttered grumpily. </p><p>“We can’t just go around not talking about things so we don’t upset other people. We just have to deal with how we feel about whatever someone says. So unless you’re trying to purposely hurt me, you’re just going to have to realize how I react and deal with it is out of your hands,” Ian told him. </p><p>“I’m not trying to intentionally hurt you!” Carl yelled, shocked.</p><p>“I know. So, spill,” Ian said. Ian sat next to Carl, getting comfortable. </p><p>“So I met this girl,” Carl started. </p><p>Ian snickered. “Always starts with a girl.” </p><p>“Fuck off. It’s not like that. Do you want me to tell you or not?” Carl said, extremely irritated. </p><p>“I’m sorry. I won’t do that again,” Ian said. “Continue, please.” </p><p>“So I was uh crying outside after you’d finally woken up at the hospital, and she gave me a tissue. We chatted for like two minutes. Then she basically hit on me while I had snot all over my face because she offered me the whole packet of tissues if I’d write my number on one. We exchanged numbers. We had a date planned but I got sick, so we facetimed instead,” Carl said. The more he talked the easier it was to let it all out. </p><p>“A date?” Ian asked with his eyebrows raised.</p><p>Carl huffed and laughed. “Yeah, I know right?” Carl smiled shyly. “I like her. She had an actual conversation with me. She wasn’t trying to do the whole flirt and then fuck thing. We talked, like about ourselves. I think that’s what people do on a normal date?”</p><p>Ian bit back his smirk. This girl did actually sound great but Carl’s face looked like a school girl in love with their favorite boyband. He wanted to laugh but that would piss Carl off right now.<br/>
“Yeah, basically. I’ve only been on like two normal dates,” Ian responded. </p><p>Carl was still smiling like an idiot. “Okay, that’s great and all but I don’t get where this is going,” Ian said to Carl.</p><p>Carl sighed. “So I didn’t text her back for like 2 days and she knew I was sick so instead of like freaking out at me, she just asked if I was okay and if I wanted to hang out again. It felt nice. This was earlier today. She gave me her instagram even though I don’t really use it but I guess that’s what normal people do. So I was like okay, I’ll look at it. So, I look at it…” Carl said trailing off. </p><p>He pulled out his phone to the post and handed it to Ian silently. Carl started fidgeting with his fingers and twisting them in his blankets.</p><p>“Looks like a memorial,” Ian said softly. He handed the phone back. “I still don’t get where this is going.” </p><p>Carl sighed and showed Ian the phone again. Carl scrolled down. “See? I think these are her sisters. They look alike and she told me she had 2.” Carl scrolled back up and clicked the memorial post against. Look at the girl in the little photo.” </p><p>Carl really should just shut the fuck up and say it straight but he couldn’t get himself to do it because it was too easy to replace sister with brother in “her sister is dead.” </p><p>Ian looked and his eyebrows crinkled. “Oh, shit. That’s her sister. She died,” Ian said lowly putting the pieces together. “She tell you this?”</p><p>“No but she literally told me her instagram thing and so she had to know there was a possibility I’d look at it. I won’t say anything about it though. If she wants to tell me, she’ll just do it,” Carl said. </p><p>“Probably good play,” Ian agreed.</p><p>“Based on the date on the post and the caption, it looks like her sister died a year ago. Like, it’s not where it happened a while ago. It’s fucking fresh. It’s fucking sad,” Carl said<br/>
.<br/>
Ian looked at his brother. Carl did look genuinely upset for this girl but there was something off. “You don’t end up punching walls out of sympathy,” Ian stated. </p><p>Carl kept opening and closing his mouth like he was going to speak, but he couldn’t get himself to do it. His hands were shaking. Ian put his hand on Carl’s knee which broke the damn. Carl roughly pulled his knee away. “You really want to know? You really fucking want to know?” Carl said laughing humorously. </p><p>Carl didn’t even know what he wanted Ian to fucking know honestly but shit was coming out of his mouth so a part of him must know something.</p><p>“Yes,” Ian said softly. It was a rhetorical question but whatever. </p><p>“You ever think about how you’d feel in someone else’s situation?” Carl said.</p><p>“Yeah, it’s called empathy,” Ian informed him. </p><p>“Well great it has a fucking name. So I did that for like five seconds before my brain just started cycling through all this shit,” Carl whispered. “Liam and the coke, Lip and when he got his stomach pumped, when he got it pumped again for the fucking fourth time after turning blue on the kitchen floor with just me there!” Carl was yelling now.</p><p> “I fucking pissed myself I was so scared. I was barely 16 and no one else is home, and Lip’s literally fucking dying in front of me!” Carl stopped to catch his breath. </p><p>Ian was staring at him with tearful wide eyes. “Carl,” Ian tried. </p><p>“No! I’m not done. There’s more and you wanted to fucking know right?” He was sarcastically laughing again. What the fuck was wrong with him? He should probably stop and calm down but now that it was out, it just kept going. </p><p>“No it’s not enough for two of my brothers to almost die in front of my fucking eyes, there’s you. There’s you in that bed at the Milkoviches and you’re not fucking moving. Fiona tells Mickey you could become suicidal, but all I could think was you already fucking looked dead. I didn’t understand what was going on! I was like fucking 12.” Carl had to pause to catch his breath again. His face was wet. He realized there were tears streaming down his cheeks. Shit. </p><p>Ian looked like he was going to talk again so Carl held his hand up. “So fast forward to this week. You look fucking dead again. I’m not fucking blaming you or anything so don’t let yourself go there. You are sick as fuck. Again. And everything you try gets ripped out of your hands but Fiona was wrong. You haven’t killed yourself, even though that is probably ten times easier than dealing with the crap. So we take you to the hospital and they said if we had waited much longer it would have been life threatening,” Carl said in between sobs. He was somehow still yelling though.</p><p>Ian was crying now too. He reached for Carl. “Jesus Carl,” he said. He sounded strangled. </p><p>Carl stood up and started pacing. He still wasn’t done. He didn’t realize he had this much shit in him. “So Sylvia’s sister is fucking dead. That post says how much she misses her sister. You all try to fucking die on me. I don’t have a mom, and fucking hell, she almost died in front of me too! I don’t have an actual dad! I don’t have a grandma! My best friend killed a kid in a trauma reaction and now he’s in jail! My girlfriends have all been fucking crazy and didn’t give a shit about me. There is no one else but you all! So yeah, I threw up and then I punched the wall because I felt so fucking bad and had to direct it somewhere. So I hit the wall, I hit the cabinet! At least for two minutes that pain was the only pain I could focus on. So what the fuck do you want from me?” </p><p>Ian stood up and started walking towards Carl. Carl met him halfway, his face red and the brokenness in his eyes tore Ian apart. He started to pound on Ian’s chest which was more like a fisted tap, he was too emotional, emphasizing each point. </p><p>“SO YOU DO NOT GET TO CHECK OUT ON ME ASSHOLE,” Carl screamed in Ian’s face. </p><p>Ian was frozen in shock for a few seconds before he caught Carl’s wrists to stop hitting him. “Hey, hey,” Ian said loudly but tried to sound comforting. “Stop.” </p><p>Carl screamed again wordlessly. Mickey and Lip flew down the steps but Ian had it under control.so Ian pinned Carl’s arms to his sides and held him tightly until Carl wasn’t trying to fight anymore. Ian loosened his hold and Carl's knees buckled. Lip caught Carl before he could crash hard on the concrete floor. Ian wrapped him up for a hug but Carl pushed himself away and scooted until his back was against a wall. Lip tried moving forward but Carl screamed again. </p><p>“Don’t touch me!”</p><p>Everyone froze. It was disturbingly silent except for their panting breaths. No one knew what to do. They stayed there for a few minutes. Carl got himself to stop crying but he was breathing like he was running a marathon.</p><p>Mickey finally spoke. “Lip, Ian,” he said. Ian and Lip came closer to Mickey but kept the same distance from Carl. “I think you should go upstairs. I’m not his brother. Might be better for him sit with someone who isn’t… fucking, you know....” </p><p>“Yeah,” Lip said. “We’ll be in the kitchen ok?” </p><p>Mickey nodded. “There’s a fucking pamphlet or shit pinned to the fridge somewhere, I think.” </p><p>Lip looked like he didn’t know what the hell Mickey was talking about but understanding dawned on Ian’s face. Carl kept his eyes down, but turned his head to watch them go upstairs. </p><p>Mickey let out a breath and ran his hand down his face a few times, and did that weird little scratching his eyebrow thing. Carl was shaking. He didn’t know if he was cold or anxious or tired but he couldn’t stop shaking. Mickey looked around the room for inspiration. He went to Carl’s mini fridge and pulled out a water bottle. He picked up Carl’s phone and a blanket off the bed.</p><p>Carl nodded his head a tiny bit. “I’m gonna give this to you but I’m not gonna touch you, okay?” Mickey said softly. </p><p>Carl nodded his head a tiny bit. Mickey placed the items in front of him close enough that Carl could grab them but far away enough didn’t have a chance of even accidentally touching him. </p><p>“Thanks,” Carl mumbled. He grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around himself.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Part Thirteen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Carl has a huge fight with his brothers but he's getting closer to Sylvia, and he's stupidly happy.</p><p>**sibling death discussed briefly**</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hopefully this is happier than the last chapter. </p><p>I don't know what the hell I'm doing trying to write a relationship thing when my asexual ass usually does not right that. So it's probably really cringy, so please cringe.</p><p>This was supposed to be 3 parts... now there are 10 more.</p><p>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Thanks,” Carl mumbled. He grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around himself. He drank some water. He stared at his phone. </p><p>“I don’t know, thought you could play a game or watch something on it if you wanted to,” Mickey said awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.</p><p>Carl nodded and opened  games. He played some mindless game where you had to hit moving balls with a sling shot. He could feel tje shaking stop and his breathing slowing after five minutes.</p><p>Carl glanced at Mickey who was just chilling with his phone. He was also playing a game which Carl felt oddly grateful for. He didn’t want to watch Mickey text his brothers upstairs. </p><p>“Wanna play a round with me?” Carl whispered. He wasn’t sure why he was whispering but talking felt wrong. </p><p>Mickey looked up. “Of the usual? Yeah.” Mickey looked at him hesitantly. “Can I come sit closer to you? Won’t touch you, won’t even breathe on you.”</p><p>Carl nodded but watched Mickey with scared eyes. MIckey slowly walked up so he could sit against the wall. He slid down about two feet from Carl. So they were sitting side by side with two feet in between them. </p><p>“This okay?” Mickey asked.</p><p>Carl nodded again. They set up the game. Mickey scoffed. “You really playing as that motherfucker? Alright man, totally going to beat your ass.” </p><p>They played and Mickey acted the way he usually would when playing with Carl. He didn’t tease Carl as much but it still felt normal. Carl had been so grateful for Mickey in his life.They played for a while when the basement door opened. Lip and Ian were standing in the door way. They motioned at Mickey. Mickey glanced at Carl for a second. Carl just shrugged. It’s not like he had any say in whatever they were doing. The three of them talked in low voices for a bit.</p><p>Mickey came back down. He looked like he felt incredibly uncomfortable. “There’s uh, someone on the phone for you,” Mickey told Carl.</p><p>“What?” Carl said. </p><p>Mickey shrugged and handed the phone to Carl and went back up the steps. They didn’t close the door all the way but he heard them all sit at the kitchen table. </p><p>Carl picked up the phone. “Uh...hello?” </p><p>“Hi, are you Carl?” A lady’s voice came from the other end. </p><p>“Who's asking?”</p><p>“Elise. I’m with the Cook County crisis response center.”</p><p>“I don’t know what that is,” Carl said slowly.</p><p>“You ever hear of a hotline?” </p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“So it’s like that. You call the number and it could be about not having water or experiencing a traumatic event. They reroute you to the appropriate line. So here we are.”</p><p>“So you’re the line for the crazy people?”</p><p>“If you want to call it that, yes,” she said laughing a bit.</p><p>Carl considered this. “That whole crisis line thing sounds too good for this shitty county to have set up. No one gives a fuck about us. Is this just a friend of my brother’s who's playing this role for him?” </p><p>“Wow,” Elise laughed a little. “That’s a new one. Yes, I am actually with the crisis center. I’m not lying to you, honey.” </p><p>“Let me guess, my asshole brothers called you because they think I’m nuts,” Carl said.</p><p>“They did call me. Not because you’re nuts. They said you were really upset and talking about some hard stuff that you’d never talked about before. They said your body was reacting pretty badly to the stress too. They feel like they don’t know what to do so they’re asking for help”</p><p>“They didn’t say it like that,” Carl scoffed.</p><p>“True but that’s how I interpreted it,” Elise answered.”So Carl, my job right now is to make sure you’re safe.” </p><p>“From what?” </p><p>“Can you just answer some questions for me? ” Elise said.</p><p>“Okay…” </p><p>“Right now, do you have any thoughts about harming yourself?” Elise said.</p><p>“Do I… what? Do I want to kill myself? Fuck no lady,” he told Elise. </p><p>“Do you have thoughts or urges to hurt others, right now?” </p><p>“Uh, I’d like to punch my brother in the fucking face,” Carl said bitterly. </p><p>“You ever felt like that before now when you’re mad at him?”</p><p>“Yeah, a lot.”</p><p>“So then we’re not going to worry about it but I’m pretty sure he would appreciate not being punched in the face.”</p><p>“Yeah, whatever. Did I pass the test? Can I go now?” Carl asked.</p><p>“It wasn’t a test honey,” she replied, “but yes. I’ve got a few more questions and then I’d like to talk to your brothers again. You have a parent around too?”</p><p>“I’m 19 next week. So I don’t think I need a parent around, but thanks for asking.”</p><p>“Just trying to feel out your support system,” she said.</p><p>“Bullshit. So I’m not a child. You want to talk to my brothers. My mom is dead. My dad is an alcoholic with dementia so who knows where he is. And even if they weren’t, they wouldn’t be around. So no, I don’t have a parent. You want my whole fucking family history too?” </p><p>To her credit Elise didn’t react to his harsh tone. “Nah, I’m good. Your brothers older or younger than you?” </p><p>“They’re like six and seven yeaers older than me,” Carl answered, rolling his eyes. “Listen, lady, you’re nice and all but you need to leave me alone so I’m going to hang up and my brothers can deal with it.” </p><p>“Can you wait a second?” She asked urgently. “Before you do that.”</p><p>“Fine,” Carl said.</p><p>“You hang up and protocol is for police to do a wellness check. I’m much easier to talk to, turst me.”</p><p>Carl started laughing. “I am the fucking police lady.” </p><p>“Excuse me?”</p><p>“I’m a fucking cop,” he told her. “Jesus christ you people. Yeah whatever I’ll keep talking. I don’t need my fucking coworkers to show up here.” </p><p>“Thanks, Carl,” she said like he’d given her a birthday present.</p><p>“Holy shit are they going to know my brothers called this line and I talked to you?” Carl coul feel the shaking start again.</p><p>“No, the call is confidential. You’re not going to hurt yourself or someone else so no one has to be informed that this call ever happened.” She replied. Carl didn’t say anything because what the fuck ever. “How does your body feel?” </p><p>Carl laughed bitterly again. “It hurts and it’s sick.” </p><p>“Is there something you can do about that when we hang up?”</p><p>“Yeah, take some medicine and go to sleep.” </p><p>“Sounds like a plan. How do you feel emotionally?” </p><p>“Well I’m on this stupid line so how do you think I feel? Bad.”</p><p>“Can you get more specific than that?”</p><p>“No, Carl said hashly. </p><p>“So is there anything you can do about feeling bad when we hang up?”</p><p>“I don’t know. Go to sleep. My brother in law and I were playing a game before I had to talk to you. That helped.” </p><p>“Okay, so that sounds like a good plan too. Take some medicine, go to sleep, and hang out with your family doing something to distract you from feeling bad,” she said cheerly. “Think you can do that?” </p><p>“Yeah. Did we seriously have to go through all that just to decide that because holy shit.” Carl said as he stomped up the steps. “Here are my brothers,” he held the phone out. He didn’t bother to hear her response. </p><p>He stomped back down the steps and slammed the door. The door was cracked open by someone seconds later. His brothers were talking on the phone. Fuck them. This is their fault anyway. Stop fucking almost dying all the time. That’s all they got to do. </p><p>Carl took some pain killers and fever reducers. He checked his own temperature this time It was 101.9 so his brothers would be fucking thrilled about that. He climbed into bed and turned on the TV. He turned on a show he’d already seen and just let it run through the episodes. </p><p>--</p><p>Carl hadn’t talked to his family in a week. Well, he talked to Debbie whenever she was home which wasn’t much so somehow they all ended up with Franny with no real explanations, which was getting old fast. He talked to Franny and Liam. He tried to talk to MIckey but Mickey didn’t want to be put in the middle of his bullshit. Either he had to talk to Mickey and everyone else, or not talk to MIckey at all. So Carl hadn’t talked to Mickey at all.</p><p>They said some stuff that was necessary. Coordinating who was taking care of Franny required actual talking. He kept it clipped. Franny could definitely sense the tension and was getting upset that her mom and Sandy weren’t around. They’d have to knock some sense into Debbie soon. But that required talking amongst each other and not just Debbie. </p><p>Lip and Ian could just do it without him. He’d said it when they were going over who was picking Franny up from school this week. They wouldn’t do it because according to them, Carl is the one who actually has ended up taking her everywhere. He made sure they coordinated. They also said Carl was the one who was actually paying for Franny’s expenses right now which wasn’t wrong. He didn’t have a kid or partner, so he had the most money. Also because he was the only person with a real fucking job. Whatever the hell Ian and Mickey were doing was not a real job. So basically, he needed to be part of the conversation. So he’d have to talk. </p><p>Carl was surprised he’d held out this long. After the weird crisis center thing on the phone, they just woke him up, wouldn’t say where they were going, and he got dumped in a room to get psychiatrically evaluated. It was fucking bullshit. They didn’t actually diagnose him with anything since the issue was barely a month old, but suggested therapy. </p><p>So they dragged his ass there next. Lip and Ian were allowed in for the first half of the session and they just blabbed about everything. Mickey would have been too but they weren’t directly related even though he helped call. Lip and Ian blabbed on like they knew fucking anything and when he pointed out that they were the last people to be talking as a fucking alcoholic and bipolar person.</p><p>That had just pissed Lip off and they had a blow out fight in the therapist’s office while Ian and the therapist attempted to mediate between them. Lip had been complaining he wasn’t “participating” in the session at the beginning. Well he was sure as fuck participating 10 minutes later.</p><p>LIp somehow twisted what he overheard Carl tell Ian in the basement since Carl wasn’t exactly quiet. Lip was accusing Carl of holding grudges for his brothers’ struggles. That wasn’t what he fucking said at at all. He hadn’t really been saying anything other than that it still really affected him. Ian tried to point that out too, but Lip just started slinging insults like he always does when he’s backed into a corner.</p><p>At one point they said it wasn’t fair that Carl was mad at them for trying to get him help when they didn’t know what to do. What he was mad about, was the lack of say he got in any of it when he was an adult. Picking up their slack on bills. Ian defended their decision on how and why they got him help over and over, and Carl just didn’t agree.</p><p>He thought Ian of all fucking people would understand being upset about being dragged to things without your input like a child, but apparently not. </p><p>When Lip finally just threw, “You’re not smart enough to be a cop,” at him, Carl was done. Carl had responded with, “You’re plenty smart and you still fucked it all up. So who the hell do you think you are?”</p><p>Carl had stormed out of the office after that. It was amazing how that apparently only happened in 20 minutes. He hadn’t spoken with his brothers since then.</p><p>His strep finally cleared up and he’d been fever free for two whole days, what a miracle. He had gone back to work before then because the fever was so low and if he took tylenol it didn’t exist. He got to hang out with Sylvia and discovered a veggie burger wasn’t completely awful. They’d hung out a lot this week. </p><p>--</p><p>“No, it’s this way!” Carl said irritated.</p><p>“Actually it’s this way, it says it right here,” Slyvia held the phone up to show him the directions. </p><p>“Whatever,” Carl said and walked to the right. He shoved his hands in his pockets and didn’t acknowledge that he was wrong. </p><p>“What time is the movie?” Sylvia asked, catching up to him. </p><p>“How would I know?” Carl responded.</p><p>“Because you’re the one who decided this is what we were doing today,” Sylvia said narrowing his eyes at him. </p><p>“Fine, give me a second and I’ll look,” Carl scowled at his phone.</p><p>“2 or 3:30?” Carl grumbled, looking up at Sylvia waiting for her to choose which time.</p><p>She stood there with her arms crossed and she was giving Carl that x-ray vision stare but it wasn’t the same gentle look it usually was. “What crawled up your ass and died today?” </p><p>Carl looked up. “What?” He said incredulously.</p><p>“You heard me,” Sylvia tersely. </p><p>“It’s nothing,” Carl said and started walking again but she grabbed his elbow. He slowly turned around. “What?” He barked.</p><p>“If there’s something that’s bothering you about us, spill it out already. I don’t do mind games,” Sylvia said. </p><p>“It’s not about you, at all,” Carl said softly. </p><p>“Great!” Sylvia threw her hands up. “Then stop taking whatever it is out on me if I’m not the problem.” </p><p>Carl’s face turned red with embarrassment and anger. He shook his head and laughed sardonically. There was a bench in the shopping plaza, and he walked towards it. She followed him and put one foot up on the bench while still standing, crossing her arms again. She stared at him so hard it was actually difficult for Carl to look away.</p><p>“So like you could just say fucking sorry and we could move on,” she said angrily. He sat down on the bench. She kicked his knee lightly. “Or you can tell me what’s going on,” she said gently.</p><p>“It’s just family stuff,” he said. That was all he offered up. She sat down next to him and waited.</p><p>“Some heavy shit went down last week. We’re not speaking. Well, I’m not talking to them,” Carl said.</p><p>“At all?”</p><p>Carl shrugged. “For the most part unless it’s important like who is picking up the kids. I talk to the kids. I talk to you. I talk at work.” </p><p>“So that’s 4 people you’re just not talking to? And you live with them?” She clarified.</p><p>“My one brother technically doesn’t live there but is always there so yeah…?” He said, not getting these questions.</p><p>“Well that sounds difficult to to maintain,” she stated.</p><p>“It is,” Carl agreed.</p><p>“So are you being stubborn and petty, or is there a different reason?” She asked.</p><p>Carl looked at her and crinkled his eyebrows. “What’s with the interrogation?” </p><p>“It’s not. I’m just trying to understand,” Sylvia said. “If you don’t want to answer that’s fine.</p><p>Carl sighed, and picked at his fingers. “Both. But if I stop talking, nothing bad will happen. It’s better this way.” </p><p>Sylvia gave him a compassionate look. “I don’t think that’s how it works,” she said quietly.</p><p>“Less bad things will happen, then,” Carl amended. </p><p>She said nothing before taking a breath and turning to face him one knee crossed on the bench. “I’m saying this as something to think about. I’m not judging you. I’m not saying your feelings don’t matter because they do. But just… think about it okay?” </p><p>“Okay,” Carl said, staring intensely at her. This was the first time she seemed to be offering up more personal information, and he wanted to hear it.</p><p>She kept her body angled at him, but her gaze was on the tree behind him. “I wish I could talk to my sister again. Every day. Sometimes it’s all I think about.” </p><p>Carl’s eyes widened. Oh shit. He didn’t know what she wanted him to say. So he winced at the stupidity of it, but asked “Why don’t you?” </p><p>Sylvia squeezed her eyes shut. “She died last year” It sounded like she had been asked to push sandpaper back up her throat. </p><p>“I’m...I’m sorry,” Carl said gently. That’s what you’re supposed to say to these things, right? </p><p>She nodded and pulled her gaze back to him. She let out a huge sigh. “Anyway, my point is, sometimes life decides for you who you can talk to out of nowhere. You can at least decide for yourself in the moment, who you’re going to talk to before life comes in and takes your choice away.”</p><p>Carl nodded but felt too choked to say anything. He smiled at her. She squeezed his hand and nodded back at him. After a few minutes of comfortable silence he said, “Thanks for sharing that. I’m sorry for being a dick.” </p><p>She grinned at him. “It’s okay. I’m just not going to put up with that shit. Life is too short to just be angry at people all the time.” </p><p>Carl wasn’t sure if she had realized she had something profound because she was suddenly “awwwwing” about a dog across the street. He watched her. Her eyes had been pretty lifeless a few moments ago but now they were shining. Her sister was gone and she still found something to appreciate. And she was beautiful.  </p><p>She turned to him saying something about that breed of dog, but Carl abruptly interrupted her, surprising himself. “Can I kiss you?” </p><p>Well now that he said it felt like he was going to explode. She went wide eyed. Carl did his best to hide any disappointment in his voice because it wasn’t fair. “It’s a question. It’s okay to say no.” </p><p>She blinked and searched his eyes. He let her and looked gently back. He wasn’t sure if he was looking to see if he was sincere in having a choice or something else. No one had ever asked him the first time he kissed someone. The girl would just be all over his mouth and he figured he was lucky anyone wanted to kiss his ugly ass so he kissed back. And he liked it but...</p><p>“Yeah, you can,” she said softly with a little laugh. “Can I touch your arms?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Carl said.</p><p> “Okay, you can touch mine too,.” Sylvia said. She untangled her legs from her weird sitting position and scooted closer to him. This was the slowest lead up to a kiss he’d ever had in his life but he wasn’t complaining. It felt more.. intimate that way and they weren’t even having sex.</p><p>She laid her hands on his forearms. He laid his hands on hers. They grinned at each other and then leaned it. It was chaste but sweet and felt like she cared. She pulled back and bit her lip. She moved forward again with her eyebrows raised, and they kissed again the same way for a bit longer. He pulled back this time and kind of shrunk his shoulders and looked down. </p><p> </p><p>“What, you never kissed a girl before?” She asked him. Her hands were still on his arms.</p><p>“Of course I have,” Carl scoffed. </p><p>“Then why so shy?” She asked, smiling, slightly flirtatious. </p><p>He turned bright red. “Jesus,” he muttered to himself. She took her hands off him. </p><p>“I don’t want to mess up. I like you,” Carl said softly. He really hoped he wouldn’t get fucked over for doing the most girly thing ever and actually telling her this because that’s not the way it works. You don’t say you like the girl. You don’t act nervous. Then they take advantage. </p><p>“Well, you didn’t,” she said. “And I like you too.” Her face turned red and she looked up from under her eyelashes.</p><p>Carl beamed at her. Sylvia looked up with more confidence. </p><p>“Which you should know, since this is the third time we’re hanging out this week,” she teased him. She shook her head at him. “You’re cute when you’re shy but you don’t have to be.”</p><p>“Shut up,” Carl muttered but he was smiling. “I guess you're kind of cute too, you know when you do that head tilt thing at me, like a really smart bird.”</p><p>Oh wow that sounded fucking stupid. Yeah hey, you’re cute because you’re like a bird was really the epitome of compliments. </p><p>She laughed. “A really smart bird?” </p><p>“Yeah,” he said nervously, trying to fix that blunder. “You know? Like a Blue Jay? They’re so beautiful it’s hard to look away.” </p><p>She turned red.</p><p> “I’ve actually never seen a blue jay but in those books with all the pictures, I always looked at that one forever,” Carl admitted. </p><p>She laughed. “Nice save,” she teased but when she said, “Thank you,” it was sincere. </p><p>He pulled out his phone out of his pocket slightly to check the time. “I guess we’re not seeing that movie. I have to get going. I’m on dinner duty tonight.” </p><p>“Dinner duty?” She asked.</p><p>“Yeah, lot of people in the house. Lot of mouths to feed. There’s like a schedule on the fridge,” he shrugged. </p><p>“You want to come?” he added. </p><p>She laughed. “While you’re giving your family the silent treatment, no thank you.” </p><p>“Oh good point,” he said. He started walking. </p><p>“You going to cook?”</p><p>“Oh hell no, everyone would just badger me to talk,” he said. “I ordered some pizza earlier. I’m going to go pick it up.” </p><p>“I can go with you, and help you carry the stuff back?” She said. </p><p>He stopped walking and stared at her. “Sorry, didn’t mean to cross a boundary,” she said nervously. </p><p>“Sure that would be nice, thanks.” Carl smiled at her.</p><p>Why would Sylvia want to spend more time with him than the like two hours she already just did?</p><p>“Because I like you dumbass,” she said and walked slightly in front of her. “Do I need to write it on a sticky note and stick it to your shirt?”</p><p>Oh shit. “I did not just say that out loud,” Carl groaned </p><p>“You did,” she laughed. “Maybe your brain is talking deprived, so now you have to say thoughts out loud.” </p><p>He laughed. “Jesus, I really hope not.” </p><p>They walked back with the pizzas. He took one from her and placed it with the others and the soda liter on the step. </p><p>“So, I’ll text you?” Carl said, putting his hands in his pockets, and grinning like an idiot. </p><p>“So, can I kiss you?” She asked Carl in the same tone of voice. </p><p>It took him a second to process that. “Yeah.” So they did. </p><p>She started down the steps, “Want a piece?” he asked her. She did just help carry it.</p><p>“Nah, you can buy me one later,” she said cheekily.</p><p>“Yeah okay, I guess I’ll have to text you then,” he called after her. She turned around to wave at him and then kept walking. He was grinning like an idiot. He felt the happiest he’d felt in weeks since Ian’s episode and then med disaster, and his whatever the fuck that was.</p>
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<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Part Fourteen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Carl ends his silence with his family. He spends more time with Sylvia, and he learns some more about her past.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I don't know how to write romance and I'm like dying at my own writing...<br/>I rewrote this chapter like three times and I still don't like it.</p><p>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He balanced the pizzas and the soda, and pushed open the front door. They were all just standing there. Of course they were. Nosy fucks. They had those stupid grinning big brother smiles on their faces. Lip started to say something but Carl didn’t even bother listening. He pulled out a plate and a cup. He got himself some pizza and soda. He slammed the rest onto the kitchen table, and went down the steps without a glance or a word.</p><p>Carl was flipping through TV channels when footsteps came down the stairs. He got ready to give the harshest death glare to whoever just came down but it was Liam. </p><p>“Oh, hey,” Carl said. “Wanna watch?”</p><p>Liam walked over to him where Carl was sitting on his bed. Liam stared at him and crossed his arms. “You’re being a huge asshole,” Liam bluntly stated. </p><p>Carl rolled his eyes. “Lip send you down here on a mission to talk to me?” </p><p>“No you dipshit. I’m down here to tell you to stop making everyone so miserable and get over yourself. It’s been a week.” </p><p>For an eleven year old, Liam really knew how to hand you your own ass. Carl sighed and just shook his head in response. </p><p>Liam glared at him. “You know, you’re usually the one person I can trust not to be a total asshole when stuff is hard. Guess not this time,” Liam shook his head at Carl and stamped back up the steps. </p><p>Carl’s stomach felt like Liam had just gutted him with an axe. They’d all better watch out with Liam because he goes in for the kill. Carl flopped back on his bed. He started to think about what Sylvia had told him with what Liam had just said. </p><p>Carl wasn’t as dense about his emotions as he seemed. The whole freakout in the basement thing and probably the crying episode when Ian was in the hospital, were probably the result of the fact that he never fucking talked about… mostly anything. For a while as a kid, it never occurred to him that people shared their feelings. Which was kinda dumb looking back on it, since Lip and Ian would never shut up about their stuff when they thought he was asleep.</p><p>So he didn’t know how to even though he’d started to figure it out when he’d started dating since girls never shut up about their feelings either. By then, things had really gotten fucked up. Everyone was falling apart, there was always a crisis, there was never time to talk about anything other than put out the fire in front of them. </p><p>He also just, didn’t like it. What if you like sharing and depend on it and then the people aren’t there anymore? Which isn’t that also the whole fucking issue? People leaving and dying. Isn’t that ironically how they got here?. He didn’t like that once you said something sometimes the words spin out of control. Which is basically what happened here.</p><p> Saying crazy bullshit, though? Of course that was going to spin out of control and the shock of it all kept you in control. Tell the judge he’d tap her if she lost 20 pounds, and she’s flabbergasted. Say yes please to juvie? You’re in control and everyone is left trying to keep up.</p><p>Whatever, the point is he knew he was fucked up. He just hadn’t realized how fucked up, until the last few weeks. He wasn’t used to getting help and he didn’t want it. He didn’t like feeling open for the kill. So yeah, Carl was pissed when he was dragged through the whole crisis line thing mostly because he was afraid. Also, it still made him mad they didn’t ask him before doing anything. There was no around that point honestly. HIs brothers had made it clear they stood by their decision, and he’d made it clear he wasn’t changing his mind that they should have consulted with him. So, that kind of just had to be.</p><p>Carl understood they wanted to help him and was reminded of that whole “if you’re my family it is my business if you’re okay” conversation with Mickey. He just did the same for Ian. So honestly, he really wasn’t angry anymore. He was just holding out because everything got so fucked up and twisted when he had said his whole tirade. If he hadn’t opened his big fucking mouth, this wouldn’t have happened. </p><p>He can’t make himself seem tough by trying to be a gangster or kick kids the school hallway anymore. They were all better with his big fucking mouth shut. He’d cause less problems that way. But...LIam had just said he was making everyone miserable so maybe being quiet wasn’t actually helping. But it felt safe. </p><p>He thought about what Sylvia said about not taking for granted the chance to talk to your siblings. Her sister was dead. His whole fucking freak out revolved around his brothers dying, which made it fucking ironic as hell that he’d stop talking to them if he thought about it with Sylvia’s perspective. </p><p>So if he talked, he fucked up. If he didn’t talk, he still fucked up. He didn’t want to fuck up all the time. And according to Liam and observation, the whole silent treatment was fucking everyone up. He was kind of shocked because he is literally one person in this overcrowded family and house. Sometimes they’ve forgotten he existed basically, so how could his sudden lack of presence make such a big issue? </p><p>Fuck. His brain hurt. It was too much to sort through. He had to stop trying to figure it out, or he’d be here for the rest of his life and he still wouldn’t have made anything right with his family. He resolutely made his way up the steps, and looked into the living room. Everyone was there. Tami, Lip, Fred, Mickey, Ian, Debbie, Franny, Liam. They were all together without him. He felt a pang of pain at that. But he had to remember that he’s the one that did this to himself. Otherwise, he’d be there too. </p><p>They all looked pretty fine without him. Sharing popcorn and talking while Liam kept hissing shut up at everyone. Carl should just go back downstairs. Watching his family made him realize how much he fucking missed them, so even if they hadn’t missed him, he’d missed them and he didn’t want to anymore. </p><p>He quietly trudged into the living room and stood there with his hands in his pockets. He’d been quiet enough that no one had noticed him coupled with the loud TV and Fred’s babbling. He moved closer to the armchair LIam and Franny were sharing. </p><p>“Hey,” he said nervously. No one had heard him but Liam and Franny but it was enough to direct everyone’s attention at him. Considering that Franny had just screamed “Uncle Carl!” into Liam’s ear which he was now covering with his hand. Everyone went silent and stilled. The only sound was coming from the TV. They were all staring at him, which felt awkward as hell. He shifted on his feet. Now what? He’d only thought about getting their attention, nothing else. Shit.</p><p>“What are you guys watching?” Carl asked awkwardly.</p><p>Lip spoke, because of course fuck him to be the one to test out the situtation. “E.T”</p><p>Carl nodded. He could sense everyone’s tension as they waited for him to reply or not reply to LIp. </p><p>“Haven’t you watched that like 50 times already?” Carl hoped this route of small banter was not about to fuck him over. He watched all of their shoulders sag in relief at the same time. It would have been funny if Carl wasn’t the reason for it. </p><p>That relief didn’t last long because everyone’s shoulders were tensing at what Lip would respond with. His family looked back and forth between them like they were watching a really close football game. </p><p>“Probably, but everyone else hasn’t,” Lip said. He smirked a bit. </p><p>As soon as Lip did his stupid Lip smirk at him, he felt like he was being pulled up from under water so he could break the surface, and breathe. Carl was realizing he’d made himself an outsider in his family, because he was standing there waiting for permission on what was next.</p><p>Ian had leaned forward from slumping on the couch under Mickey’s arm. “You want to watch?” </p><p>Carl took that as the life line to pull him up and out of the water. He could fucking breathe. </p><p>“Okay,” he said. Carl looked around for where to sit. Everyone had already claimed all the spaces. This always meant someone ended up on the floor. Guess it was him. He sat next to LIam and Franny. </p><p>Ian picked up the bowl of popcorn. He handed it to Debbie. “Pass that to Carl.”</p><p>The popcorn made its way down to Carl and he held it like it was an Olympic medal. He took a handful and passed it back. “Thanks.” </p><p>Liam sighed loudly. “Okay great, now that we’ve settled that we have to go back because I couldn’t watch the movie properly.” </p><p>Everyone groaned. “Fucking really, LIam?” Mickey said.</p><p>Liam smirked smugly. “Well, since I’m in charge of the remote since, oh yeah, it was Mickey who dumped that responsibility on me. So,” Liam said. He pointed the remote at the TV and rewinded.</p><p>“Does he do this fucking shit with every movie?” Mickey grumbled. He’d watched plenty of movies with Liam, but apparently those had been interruption free somehow.</p><p>“Yes,” Carl, Debbie, Ian, and Lip said at the same time. They looked at each other, tentatively smiling before Ian started laughing. Ian had given them permission to all laugh together, which had not happened in what felt like years. When the laughter died down, they kept smiling at each other, swapping eye contact. Liam finally pressed play.</p><p>Carl could breathe again.</p><p>--</p><p>Carl could feel Lip keep staring at him from across the room. Carl returned the stare and caught Lip’s eye. Lip cocked his head and shoved his thumb to the side. Carl nodded. Lip climbed out from between Tami and MIckey. Mickey now had Ian slumped against him asleep. </p><p>Fuck. He didn’t know what to say here or how to do this. A hand appeared in front of him. Carl looked up. It was Lip’s. Carl cautiously took it and Lip pulled him off the floor. Carl followed him through the kitchen. Lip stopped at the fridge and pulled out two cans of coke. He passed one to Carl and then shut the fridge door. Carl definitely needed some sort of sugar and caffeine for this conversation because he was starting to feel like Ian. They ended up on the back porch. They still hadn’t said anything to each other. </p><p>Carl sat on the first step sideways, with one knee propped up and his arm resting on it. <br/>Lip leaned against the porch railing, cracking open his coke and taking a really long drag from it. Carl was passing his coke back and forth in his hands. </p><p>“I really don’t know how to start this,” Carl said, staring at his knee. </p><p>Lip sighed and cleared this throat. “I’m sorry, buddy,” Lip said quietly. He sounded kind of choked and his eyes were watering. </p><p>Carl’s head shot up. He wasn’t expecting to get an apology out of Lip, especially first thing in the conversation. Lip never wanted to apologize first. He was too fucking stubborn. Lip caught Carl’s eye. He looked so sincere and sad.</p><p>“Oh,” Carl said. He couldn’t think of anything else. He was stuck on how upset Lip looked and the fact that Lip had apologized first for once in his life.</p><p>“I’m sorry too,” Carl said quietly. He looked up at LIp and just repeated it. “I’m sorry.” Carl ran his hands through his hair and tugged.</p><p>Lip’s face did that stupid fucking big brother look. Lip’s eyes widened and then softened. He tilted his head to his side and had the tiniest smile on his face. Lip sank down next to Carl with both his feet out in front of him. They were facing each other. Carl’s foot at his shoulder. HIs foot at Carl’s shoulder. He let their knees bump each other. Lip smirked and then dug a foot into Carl’s arm.</p><p>Carl groaned and shoved it away. “You’re a fucking dick, you know that?” Carl said. “You’re such a fucking asshole.”</p><p>“Yeah, I know,” Lip said. “You’re kind of a jerk though,” Lip said nodding to Carl. </p><p>“Never said I wasn’t,” Carl said quietly. He popped open the coke and drank some.</p><p>“I missed you,” Lip said.</p><p>Carl almost choked on his drink.Carl rolled his eyes because seriously what was this sappy shit? “Yeah okay,” Carl said sarcastically. </p><p>Lip’s foot pushed his shoulder again. “I’m serious, asshole.” </p><p>“No you’re fucking delusional,” Carl said. “There’s nothing to miss about me. You were fine.” </p><p>Lip laughed humorously. “Jesus Carl. You’re delusional if you think that.” </p><p>Carl said nothing. He stared into the street and drank his coke. </p><p>“Oh my god,” Lip said horrified. “You actually think that?” </p><p>Carl just gave him a look that said “duh”. </p><p>Lip ran a shaky hand through his hair. Carl wasn’t sure what Lip was getting so emotional about. </p><p>“You’re not fucking stupid, okay? You’ve never been stupid,” Lip said leaning forward.</p><p>“No, I am. You’ve said it for years, Lip,” Carl said.</p><p>“I was angry. I didn’t mean it,” Lip said, looking astonished. </p><p>“How the fuck am I supposed to know that?” Carl spat. He pulled his leg away from Lip and sat down on the next step, with his back to Lip. “Maybe you think you don’t mean it. But you do, because you always do that. You go for someone’s biggest insecurity and shove it around. You do this to everyone.” </p><p>Lip was sitting with both knees bent, arms resting on them. HIs head hung. </p><p>Carl turned so he could see Lip’s face. “I didn’t even fucking come at you. I was talking about the situation. I didn’t fucking just go for everything about you. I didn’t call you fucking stupid, or arrogant, or whatever else!” Carl shouted. “Grow the fuck up!</p><p>Lip scoffed at being told to grow up.. “Giving me the silent treatment for a week was very mature, Carl,” Lip said sarcastically.</p><p>“I know it was fucking stupid and that I should grow up,” Carl said. “I’m sorry.” </p><p>“I don’t think you’re stupid. I don’t think you’re holding a grudge against me for everything. I was just mad that you were mad that I was trying to fucking help you,” Lip said. </p><p>“I know you were trying to help me. Thanks. But I still don’t like it,” Carl said. </p><p>“You don’t have to like it,” Lip said. “But think about it like this for a second. Instead of you that was Liam down there screaming about a bunch of things that no one ever even knew he was so fucking traumatized by. You weren’t calming down. Would you just leave Liam there, or look for help?” </p><p>Carl scoffed and crossed his arms. “I’m not fucking traumatized by shit.” Carl was not traumatized. Gallaghers don’t get traumatized. They get fucked up and keep going. Everything textbooks said about traumatic events were just another Tuesday in their house. That’s just his life.</p><p>“That’s not my point. If Liam was that upset, and you had no idea what to do. Everything you try is making it worse. So do you go look for help or do you just leave Liam there?” Lip questioned. Carl still had his back to him, so Lip got up and stood in front of him. </p><p>“You going to leave Ian there? You going to leave Debbie there?” Carl wasn’t answering so Lip kept pushing. “Mickey? Franny? Me? Fiona? Fucking Tami? Kev? Vee?”</p><p>“No I’m not going to leave them there!” Carl shouted. “Fucking stop it already.” </p><p>Lip’s method to getting Carl to see the point had gone a little too far. “But I would have talked to them about what I was doing,” Carl said defiantly.</p><p>“We did the best we could with what we knew. I did the best I could Carl! I’m sorry! Should I have thought of talking to you? Maybe. Now I will. But I did my fucking best, Carl,” Lip yelled, frustrated. He looked pleadingly at Carl.</p><p>Carl nodded. “I know. I’m..I’m sorry.” Carl wrung his hands. He had been a bit too hard on Lip. “I was too hard on you, I’m sorry.” He looked Lip in the eyes.</p><p>“I know you think I’m some super human that can balance everyone’s shit perfectly but I can’t. You’ll be happy to hear I’m aware I don’t know everything,” Lip tried joking to lighten the mood a bit.</p><p>Carl laughed a bit. “You want a fucking medal or something?”</p><p>Lip smiled and sat next to Carl knocking their shoulders together. “I’m sorry I said you were stupid. And I really did miss you.” </p><p>Carl elbowed Lip to get him to move over. Carl thought back to how he felt like an outsider earlier in his own family and he had done that to himself. “I might,” Carl said emphasizing the might, “have missed you too.” </p><p>“I’ll take it,” Lip said. Lip stood up and held his hand out to Carl. “Let’s go back inside.”</p><p>Carl didn’t move. He stared at his shoes. His eyes were filling with tears. He blinked in irritation so they wouldn’t fall.</p><p>“Carl?” Lip said, sitting down and ducking to see Carl’s face. His eyes widened a bit at Carl’s teary eyes. Lip bumped his knee against Carl’s. “Hey, what’s going on?” He said gently. </p><p>Carl shook his head and sucked in a breath. He’d gotten control of his tears and he wasn’t losing it again. “Nothing, let’s go.” </p><p>“Try again,” Lip said holding up his hand as Carl started to get up. </p><p>Carl wanted to tell Lip that he wasn’t talking because he didn’t want to make things worse. That he caused problems. That all of this shit was his fault. And there was no reason to miss him. They’re better off if he’s quiet. </p><p>But what if telling Lip that made things worse? He just wanted to feel in control of something. He could control if he talked and what he said. As soon as he admits that, any control goes out the window. He was tired of feeling out of control. And at this point, he was just tired. Talking was a waste of energy.</p><p>Carl finished standing up. “Leave it,” he told Lip and went back into the house.</p><p>--</p><p>The conversation with Ian had been a lot simpler since there really wasn’t anything to work out between them. Carl apologized for the whole immature silent thing and said that he understood Ian was just doing his best to help when he called the crisis center. Ian said he was sorry for not getting his input, because Ian hates that done to him. All sunshine and fucking rainbows. Moved on. </p><p>Carl and Sylvia ended up going to the movie, a whole week later the initially planned one. They’d known each other about three weeks. If you counted meeting her and brief texting. “They’d been… hanging out?... chilling... ? Dating? No way... for two weeks.</p><p>On the way back, they were bickering about if the ending was good or not. They were laughing. They went to the crosswalk and stopped to wait for the light. Slyvia gasped. Carl looked in the direction. </p><p>Oh shit. How had he not noticed that? There were two totally wrecked cars in the middle of the road. It looked like they’d hit each other so hard it was probably like a minor earthquake. No people were there other than a crew of people trying to get the cars out of the road.</p><p>He looked at Sylvia and she was white. She backed up and started running away from the scene. Fuck! Carl sprinted after her. “Sylvia!” He kept yelling her name but she just kept running. Carl felt something settle deep into his stomach that this was bad. He didn’t know what was going on, but it was bad. </p><p>She abruptly stopped running. Carl skidded to a halt. They were under the El tracks. She leaned against a pillar and slid down to the ground. He ran and kneed in front of her.</p><p>“Hey? What was that?” He said, trying not to sound as panicked as he felt. She didn’t respond to him but pulled her crossbody purse onto her lap. Her hands were shaking and she fumbled with the zipper. The more she fumbled the more upset she got. </p><p>“Hey, let me,” He grabbed the bag and gently pulled it away. He opened the zipper. She immediately started digging around and pulled out a pill bottle. She handed it to Carl. There was no way she’d be able to open that if she couldn’t even open a zipper. </p><p>She held out her hand. He looked unsure down at the bottle. It was prescribed. It had her name on it. So it should be fine. He opened it. He shook out one into her hand, and closed the lid again. Carl didn’t know if he was horrified or impressed that she dry swallowed it. </p><p>“Sylvia,” he said slowly and gently. She shook her head. “Give, minute,” she panted. Carl shut up and watched her pull her knees to her chest and rest her head face down on her arms and knees. She was slowly regulating her breathing. Carl glanced at the bottle  Xanax, take as needed. Oh shit. Carl understood now. He couldn’t believe he’d been so slow on the uptake. She was having a panic attack. Apparently, she had them often enough to get a whole damn prescription. </p><p>He wanted to touch her to comfort her but he had a feeling that was a bad idea, so he just sat playing with the grass as he anxiously waited for her to do something other than cry into her arms now that she was breathing normally again. But several more moments went by.<br/>Carl pushed himself on his knees.</p><p>“Do you need me to uh, call someone for you..?” Carl asked. Was that even the right thing to ask? She pulled her head up and shook it. Her makeup was all over her face which was blotchy and it looked like she’d been sweating if he didn’t know better. He looked into her eyes and had to look away. There was too much hurt in there. He was a coward.</p><p>“A-ask me questions,” she stuttered. </p><p>His eyebrows furrowed. “About what?” </p><p>“Anything, that is like,  fact,” She said.</p><p>“Um, how old are you?” Carl tried.</p><p>“20.”</p><p>“Where are we?”</p><p>“Chicago. Under the el.” </p><p>“What color is your shirt?” </p><p>“Blue.”</p><p>He couldn’t think of anything else to ask about their surroundings. </p><p>“Uhhh, what’s a baby dog called?” </p><p>“Puppy.” </p><p>“What do people eat at the movies?” </p><p>“Popcorn. Candy.” Her answers were coming out steadier now. </p><p>Carl looked at the sky as if that had an answer. “What color is the sky?” </p><p>“Right now? Grey. In general? Blue,” she said, smirking a little. “Everyone thinks that’s a simple question. It’s not if you want to be accurate.” </p><p>Carl just stared at her bewildered. “Uh, do you need more questions?” </p><p>She wiped her face. “No, thanks so much.” </p><p>“Uh, no problem,” Carl said. </p><p>She stared at her lap. “Sorry about that,” she said quietly. She was embarrassed.  Which didn’t make sense to Carl; he thought panic attacks weren’t something you could control. LIke you can’t just decide when you have to pee. </p><p>“Don’t be,” Carl said. “Are you okay?” Carl tried to make his voice gentle and caring but all he heard was his voicing cracking like he was hitting puberty again. He didn’t know how to handle this shit. Especially with a girl that he was… seeing. </p><p>She laughed bitterly. “Yeah, I’m okay. Done panicking and crying my face off” </p><p>“But what?” Carl asked. </p><p>“But...I…” She trailed off. She was doing that xray vision thing on him. Like she was trying to figure out something. If he was trustworthy? If he was judging her? He didn’t know. </p><p>“My sister,” Sylvia breathed out. “She um. She… in a car cash. So seeing that one back there...” </p><p>Well oh shit. Carl nodded. “Yeah, makes….sense.” That sounded dumb but he didn’t want to say he understood because he didn’t actually know how she felt, but he got the connection.</p><p>Carl scooted closer so he was facing her crossed legged. Hopefully this wasn’t going too far too fast but I mean, they had kissed the other day but this was deep personal shit so who knew. He held out his hands with the palms up. She looked confused for a second but moved her hands to rest on his. </p><p>“I miss her all the time,” she said quietly. “I haven’t talked about her in forever to anyone out loud.” </p><p>“What was her name?” Carl asked softly. She wanted him to ask a question right? Fuck. He didn’t know. </p><p>“Claire. My little sister,” Sylvia said. She looked up nervously. </p><p>“She ever annoy the fuck out of you?” Carl asked. She looked relieved that he was going with the conversation. But holy shit, could Carl have blurted out a worse question? </p><p>He looked sheepish. “Uh, wow, sorry. Whenever I talk about my siblings to someone else it’s usually because they’re being annoying.” </p><p>She laughed. “It’s a real question. She’s a person not, suddenly perfect now that she’s gone.” <br/>She laughed again. “Yeah, she did. She always slurped the milk from her cereal bowl. She...she was just like any other person or sibling, ya know?” She shrugged.</p><p>“Yeah,” Carl said. Sylvia didn’t say anything and she looked like she didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “I’m pretty sure I was the one slurping from my bowl. I still might, never noticed. There’s too many of us to hear stuff like that. Have to watch out for it.” </p><p>Carl just noticed they were still holding hands. She seemed to notice at the same time and gently pulled away. They both were red.</p><p>“You better. I can’t be associated with someone who slurps,” She smirked and stood up. She offered her hand and pulled him up. “You didn’t get me pizza,” she said. </p><p>“You sure you don’t want to go home and chill out?” Carl asked. She’d wiped her face with a wipe so there wasn’t make up all over it, but Carl would just want to go home if he’d just experienced that. </p><p>“I want to get pizza,” she said. “Unless you want to go home.” </p><p>“Fuck no, pizza.” He started leading them in the direction they’d just come from and stopped. That was where the car accident was. Bad idea. He turned around. “”Let’s go to the one few blocks down.” He started walking and she tugged his hand to grab his attention. “Hey, thanks for turning around.” </p><p>“Pizza there is too greasy. I would have to sluuuurrrppp it off,” Carl said teasing. “Maybe I’ll sluuurrrrp my soda.” </p><p> </p><p>She shoved him lightly with her hip and laughed. “Guess I’ll have to find a different cute guy to buy me pizza.” </p><p>Carl had a feeling she was smirking at the fact that he turned red. He gave her arm a light push with his hand. “Damn that’s too bad. But I hear there are some good guys down at the basketball court.” </p><p>She shoved his arm. “Shut up.” She said laughing. </p><p>Carl almost stopped walking, completely floored at how beautiful she was when she laughed, especially with dried tear tracks on her face. </p><p>“What are you staring at? Is there a big mascara streak I missed on my neck?” </p><p>“No, you’re just beautiful,” he said sincerely. He sounded a little dazed and off his rocker though. </p><p>“Yeah okay,” she rolled her eyes. </p><p>“So you can call me cute but I can’t call you beautiful?” Carl challenged. </p><p>“Well who said I was talking about you?” She said playfully.</p><p>“Well do you have a whole line of guys to buy you pizza already at the place?” </p><p>She laughed and shook her head. “Okay, this is getting too cheesy.” </p><p>“Like pizza?” Carl grinned.</p><p>“Oh my god,” she groaned and rolled her eyes. </p><p>Carl got a bit serious for a minute. “Sorry.” He didn’t mean to make her uncomfortable. He thought they were playing around.</p><p>“For what? We’re just playing around? I was having fun,” Sylvia said. </p><p>“Okay,” Carl said.</p><p>“Okay,” she said back. “We going there?” </p><p>“No, the other five pizza places on the street,” Carl deadpanned. </p><p>They got their pizza and drinks and sat at a table by the window. Carl pulled the wrapper off his straw and stuck it in his drink. He wiggled her eyebrows at her.</p><p>“Don’t you dare…” Sylvia said in mock anger.</p><p>Carl slurped the soda, but that was the first sip so his body wasn’t ready for the carbonation and it came out back his nose. </p><p>She cracked up. “That’s what you get.” </p><p>He just shut up and ate his pizza but he was laughing too.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Part Fifteen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Carl's starting have horrifying nightmares but he and Sylvia make a decision about their relationship.</p><p>***Two brief suicides occur in this chapter as part of a nightmare**</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>***Two brief suicides occur in this chapter as part of a nightmare**<br/>After Carl talks to Ian, is basically when you should start expecting it. </p><p>This is terrible and it's embarrassing how awful this is, but I keep posting to it...</p><p>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Carl was walking back from dropping Sylvia off at her house. He was thinking about how happy he felt. He was talking to his family again. He was hanging out with an amazing girl. Carl’s foot kicked a broken glass bottle of beer midstep. Totally normal. This happened everyday he’d been able to walk..</p><p>His brain flashed to a memory of Lip’s bottle crashing to the floor as Lip collapsed. He shook his head to clear the image. What the fuck was that? His heart was pounding. He didn’t get it. He kicked beer bottles all day. He didn’t suddenly just remember something bad that happened to him and feel like he was running a marathon.</p><p>Carl walked home in a panicked daze and slammed the basement door shut. He’d just been thinking about how he was fucking happy! So where did this come from? It felt like his brain was just full of white noise and he couldn’t think straight. He kicked off his shoes and got in bed with all the covers over his head. He stayed under there until it was too hot to breathe. </p><p>He thought about how playing a game with Mickey had calmed him down during his freakout. Carl pulled up a game on his phone and zoned out playing it. 30 minutes later, he felt calmer, but still off balance. He didn’t want to be alone. He heard someone up in the kitchen and headed up.</p><p>Ian was at the counter chopping vegetables humming to himself. Ian glanced up at the sound of the door shutting. </p><p>“Hey!” He said to Carl.</p><p>“Hey…” Carl said slowly. This was the peppiest Ian had been in weeks and he really didn’t want to be that person, but was he on the fast train to mania? </p><p>“What are you doing?” Carl asked. </p><p>“Making tacos. I’m on dinner duty remember?” Ian said. </p><p>Ian hadn’t done dinner duty himself in weeks. </p><p>“Where’s Mickey?” Carl asked. He couldn’t shake the nervousness he felt and if Mickey was there it would somehow be better right?</p><p>“Upstairs, napping. He has a cold,” Ian said, scraping his cut vegetables into a pan. Ian put his hand on the burner but paused. He narrowed his eyes at Carl and looked him up and down. “I’m not manic,” Ian told him. He said it the same way he answered what he was making. </p><p>Busted. “Sorry,” Carl said. “I know you hate that.” </p><p>Ian shrugged and smirked. He started cooking the vegetables in the pan. “No offense Carl, but like you haven’t really been around. You completely ignored us for a week. You’re always out. So, it makes sense you’d think that. But I’m not.” </p><p>Carl felt stupid. He hadn’t been around and he had shunned his family for a week. He didn’t even really remember much about Ian last week. He’d missed a whole week and then jumped to a conclusion. Ian wasn’t annoyed at the insinuation that he was manic but Carl wouldn’t have known better, and that was embarrassing as fuck. “Sorry,” Carl said again.</p><p>Ian shrugged off. “Where have you been, man?” Ian asked.</p><p>Carl internally groaned. Here we go. “Out.” </p><p>“Mhm,” Ian said grinning to himself. Ian was getting a kick out of this. Congrats to him. “The girl from the hospital? That’s who you’re smooching all over the front porch?” </p><p>“I was not smooching all over,” Carl said indignantly. He hadn’t been. “What are you 80? Who says smooch?” </p><p>“So yes then,” Ian said, replacing the pan of vegetables with ground beef. </p><p>Carl rolled his eyes. “What do you care? You and Mickey have probably ‘smooched’ “ Carl exagrated word, “All over the fucking southside and the house.” </p><p>“Yeah, but the difference is, I’m not getting all flustered about it when my brother talks to me about it,” Ian said, raising his eyebrows at Carl.</p><p>“Fuck you,” Carl said. “I don’t get fucking flustered.” </p><p>“You just did. You’re so easy to rile up, you know that?” Ian was laughing. Carl just glared. “Since you still haven’t figured this out after 19 years, the more you react, the funnier it is. The longer it goes.” </p><p>“Glad to be your fucking entertainment then,” Carl muttered and grabbed a beer from the fridge. He peered over the stove. Ian swatted him away. </p><p>“Is that almost done? I’m starving,” Carl said, sitting back down at the counter.</p><p>“Well, if you helped, it might go faster,” Ian said, pointedly. </p><p>Carl leaned back and took a long drag of beer. “Nah, I’m good, man. Being your evening entertainment is more than enough from me.” </p><p>Ian rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, like another 20 minutes? Eat some crackers or something.” </p><p>“Where’s everyone else?” Carl asked. He realized that if dinner was ready in 20 minutes, no one seemed to be around to eat it. </p><p>“Debbie took Franny to the park,” Ian said. Carl raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Yeah, I know right. Liam is upstairs doing homework.” </p><p>“He’s the only person in this house aside from Debbie to have ever taken homework even remotely seriously. Speaking of Debbie, she seems to be around again. She tell you where the fuck she was the last few weeks?” Carl asked Ian.</p><p>Ian sighed. “Of course she didn’t.” Ian shook his head. “We’ll have to talk to Lip about what we’re doing about that. You can’t keep doing Debbie’s job for her.” </p><p>“I don’t do her job for her. You do it too,” Carl pointed out. </p><p>“No, that’s Mickey. Mickey is the favorite,” Ian laughed. </p><p>“Yeah, I fucking know. That’s all she talks about on the way to school in the morning. Uncle Mickey said this and did that,” Carl groaned. </p><p>This was the longest conversation he’d had with only Ian in a long time that wasn’t about someone having a problem. It was nice. Ian was laughing to himself about something. “What?” Carl asked.</p><p>Ian shook his head. “Mickey tried to threaten someone with a fucking air soft gun yesterday,” he told Carl. </p><p>“You realize that’s because you wouldn’t let him have a real gun, right?” Carl understood Ian’s caution but it clearly hadn’t helped them the other day. </p><p>“Yeah, yeah,” Ian sounded annoyed. “I heard. I know.” Ian started moving stuff into serving bowls. </p><p>They were quiet for a bit, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Carl screwed around on his phone for a bit. </p><p>“Hey, remember when we shot paintballs in the yard and pissed Fiona off?” Ian asked, looking at Carl, grinning.</p><p>“Uh, yeah, sure,” Carl said. What? That was like five years ago when Ian first got diagnosed and everything was a mess in the Gallagher house on a whole new level. Carl didn’t mean Ian caused that. It was honestly everyone’s reactions and the whole process in general that just sucked. </p><p>“That was like the only time I ever felt like a normal member of our family in weeks,” Ian said pensively. </p><p>Carl didn’t know what to say about that. But he did have a question for right now. “Well, do you feel like a normal person in our family right now?” </p><p>“Most of the time,” Ian said. “Mostly when I start to get better from whatever shit storm I’d just been hit with.” </p><p>“Are you getting better?” Carl was almost afraid to ask.</p><p>“I think so,” Ian said. “I’m just trying to worry about now. I’ve got to go see if Mickey wants dinner and tell Liam it’s ready. Can you text Debbie?” Ian went up the steps. </p><p>That was a weird turn to the conversation but Carl felt a little less off balance knowing that Ian was feeling better, even if he wasn’t better. He wished he had fucking noticed that last week. </p><p>Carl had a dream that night about that time shooting airsofts in the backyard. It was pretty much the exact same scene… except for the ending. </p><p>Ian had stormed out of dinner after calling everyone out individually in front of Ian’s stupid new boyfriend. Carl had waited a few minutes before following him. Ian had been standing there rigid. Carl dug around in a cardboard box, and pulled out the guns. “Wanna play?”</p><p>They were shooting yellow paint balls onto everything in the yard. Ian was laughing for the first time  in probably weeks, if not months. Fiona stood in the yard and screamed at them. He’d just caught Ian’s eye and kept laughing harder. Fiona was beside herself in anger.</p><p>But his dream didn’t end this way. Carl and Ian had been laughing when Ian suddenly stopped. He turned to look Carl directly in the eye. Ian pointed the gun at his own head. The paintball gun was suddenly a very fucking real gun. Ian pulled the trigger and blood spattered onto Carl’s face. He screamed.</p><p>Carl sat bolt upright. He was still screaming. He snapped his mouth shut and threw the covers off, pacing around. What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck was that?  Carl’s whole shirt was sticking to him with sweat. Carl threw it off and tugged on a dry one. </p><p>What was going on? First that weird flash of a memory with Lip and now this nightmare? He almost screamed again. Everything inside him was shaking violently and it felt like it wouldn’t stop unless he ripped it all out. Carl looked at the wall and glanced at the scabs on his hand. He couldn’t do that again. </p><p>Carl was almost hyperventilating. He shoved on some pants and shoes. He’d go run. What time was it? Carl looked. 3am. Great. He shoved his phone and his wallet in his pocket and ran out of the house, bursting into the front yard. There was a soccer ball that was probably Liam’s laying in the grass. Carl got an idea. He grabbed the ball and went around back.</p><p>He placed it down and ran at it, and kicked it hard into the chain link fence. The force of it making the chains shake made Carl feel briefly calm. He did it again. He started kicking the ball at everything in the yard but the house. His family could sleep through a lot, but literally punting a ball at the house was too much. He picked up the ball and threw it at the van.</p><p>Carl kept kicking and throwing until he went to kick and he missed the ball, and fell on his ass. Holy shit. Breathing was sharp in his lungs. He’d gone way past the mark of overdoing it. How long had he been out here?  He was drenched in sweat again. He pulled himself up and dragged himself into the house. He didn’t get far and he fell near the kitchen table. Breathing still hurt so he just layed down. </p><p>Carl wasn’t sure how long he’d been back inside but his breathing was better, and somehow flicked on the light. He squinted. </p><p>“What are you doing?” Liam asked bewildered, staring at him like he was crazy. “I thought you were Frank!” </p><p>“What are you doing down here so late?” Carl asked in response. Th kids should be asleep right now. </p><p>Liam showed him the empty glass and trudged down to the kitchen sink. “Getting water that doesn't taste like rust.” </p><p>“Fuck, again?” Carl said. Could the fucking bathroom just, not do that for once? </p><p>“Yep,” Liam said. Liam scrutinized Carl for a few seconds before nodding to himself. Carl wondered if Liam was even aware of the fact that he usually nodded to himself when he’d come to sort of conclusion in his thoughts? Carl had no idea where the hell that came from, but it wasn’t them. Carl found it funny and kind of adorable. </p><p>Liam filled up another glass and placed it near Carl’s head. He sat down crossed legged next to Carl’s feet. “So...again, what are you doing? Or more specifically why are you laying on the floor in the kitchen?” </p><p>Carl rolled his eyes at Liam’s new routine of explaining something specifically all the time. He must have learned it in school recently. Uh, what was he doing? He couldn’t be like I just watched our older brother blow his brains out in my mind so I took it out on a ball until I was too tired to keep going and ended up the floor? </p><p>“Tripped,” Carl said. “The cold floor felt nice. I was sweaty,” Carl said. It wasn’t entirely a lie, since those things were true too.</p><p>“Right,” Liam said skeptically. He took a drink of his water. Carl sat up too and after one sip realized how thirsty he was. He downed the whole thing. Liam was staring at him with one eyebrow pulled up, and the other pushing down? So basically, Liam’s what the actual fuck face. </p><p>“Are you okay?” Liam asked. “You’ve been acting kinda weird.” </p><p>“What?” Carl processed the sentence again. “Acting weird?”</p><p>Liam looked at him like he was an idiot. “Seriously? You’re asking that? Look around you. You’re just laying on the floor in the kitchen at like 4 in the morning, for starters.”</p><p>“Okay, yeah,” Carl agreed. “This is weird.” He didn’t make any move to get up though.</p><p>Liam pressed on. “You didn’t talk to anyone for a week. You’re like never home. You had a huge breakdown in the basement the other week. I heard Ian tell Mickey you also had one when Ian was sick. You are taking everything like a personal attack. You--”</p><p>“Fuck. Alright!” Carl interrupted LIam. “I did not have a fucking breakdown,” he muttered. He emphasized the word breakdown. That’s not what happened. He just.. freaked out a bit. </p><p>Liam sighed and shook his head. “Okay,” he said like he was placating a child. </p><p>“Don’t worry about me,” Carl said. He changed the subject. “How are you?” </p><p>“School is good. I have a sleepover birthday party tomorrow night. Ian’s been up more. Debbie has been around more too, I’m okay,” Liam listed his life like an inventory. </p><p>“That’s good,” Carl said, patting Liam’s knee. Carl thought the sleepoever thing would be gay as fuck if it wasn’t for the fact that Liam was 10.</p><p>“Yeah, my only problem is my brother acting weird,” Liam said. He pointedly brought the conversation back around. Carl scoffed. “And won’t take it seriously,” Liam added in annoyance.</p><p>“I didn’t say I wasn’t taking it seriously. Thanks for looking out for me, buddy. I’m fine, You should go back to bed,” Carl said standing up with the intention of going back to bed himself. </p><p>“You’re insufferable,” Liam said, sounding old. </p><p>“What?” Carl said.</p><p>“It means annoying, unbearable. It’s a vocab word this week,” Liam informed him.</p><p>“Jesus Christ Liam go to bed,” Carl said and went to the basement door. He waited until he heard Liam get all the way up the steps before going down back to bed. He stared at the ceiling. He did not want to go back to sleep. It was 4:45 in the morning. His alarm would go off at 6, there was no point anyway. He flicked on the bedside lamp.`` </p><p>He pulled out his phone grinning. Sylvia hated good morning texts and it was just too funny to annoy her.</p><p>To Sylvia 4:50am</p><p>Good morning, beautiful! &lt;3<br/>
When are you done school and work today? </p><p>He didn’t expect her to answer because a reasonable person would still be asleep right now. Carl couldn’t sit still. He’d make pancakes. </p><p>He had made a whole batch and was moving on to eggs when his phone dinged.</p><p>From Sylvia 6:14am: </p><p>*eye roll emoji*<br/>
Class 8 to 1. Work 2 to 7. I’m tired just thinking about it.<br/>
I have to finish a paper.<br/>
And no, you can’t just “chill” next to me while I do it. Last time we tried that I didn’t get anything done. </p><p>Carl watched the multiple messages pop up one after the other. </p><p>To Sylvia 6:21am:<br/>
Okay Okay I get it lol. *tongue out*<br/>
Guess I’ll have to wait until tomorrow then?</p><p>From Sylvia 6:23am: </p><p>Looks like. Sorry!</p><p>To Sylvia 6:24am </p><p>It’s cool. Good luck with work and your paper. </p><p>Carl had been  distracted by everyone coming down and devouring the food he’d just made and texting Sylvia. Shit he wasn’t even dressed and he had to leave in like 20 minutes. Liam was eyeing him weirdly so Carl pulled his cheeks out and stuck his tongue out at Liam. Liam giggled and went back to eating. </p><p>The day dragged on. Sylvia texted him again later that night.</p><p>From Sylvia 9:02pm: </p><p>Hey what the hell were you doing up before 5? </p><p>To Sylvia 9:05pm</p><p>Don’t you have a paper to write?</p><p>From Sylvia 9:08pm</p><p>Quit deflecting. </p><p>To Sylvia 9:09pm</p><p>Quit procrastinating. </p><p>From Sylvia 9:11pm</p><p>Ugh. Touche.</p><p>--</p><p>Carl kept having the nightmare but they started to have variations. One of them was where he pointed the gun at himself and pulled the trigger and he did not know what the fuck that meant but it had shaken him. He hadn’t slept much in the last few days. He thought he was doing okay at hiding it, but apparently not because Sylvia started asking him about it. </p><p>“You’ve been quiet lately,” Sylvia said. No anger or judgement. Just an observable fact. </p><p>“Just tired,” Carl said with a wane smile. “Sorry.” He was being shitty and boring and why would anyone want to hang out with him? </p><p>Sylvia sighed. “Why are you so tired?” </p><p>“Just can’t sleep,” Carl said. He tried to change the subject but Sylvia bulldozed over that plan. </p><p>“Why?” Sylvia pressed.</p><p>“I don’t want to talk about it,” Carl said tonelessly. </p><p>“Okay,” Sylvia said. “You look like you’re going to fall over any second though.”</p><p>“We’re sitting,” Carl pointed out, rolling his eyes. “So are we watching this or what?” </p><p>They were supposed to be watching a movie at her house, but somehow it had become “worry about Carl time”. She sighed. “Sure thing.”</p><p>She pulled up the movie and glanced at him, she paused before hitting play. “If you don’t want to talk about it, can I give you a hug?” </p><p>For some reason that made Carl think of when Lip said hugs help make things better. Hugs for emotional shit were also dangerous. That’s getting too close. He was a fucked up piece of shit that no one needed to touch. He shook his head.</p><p>“Okay,” she said again. And she played the movie. Carl felt bad for saying no but she didn’t really seem upset. </p><p>Carl wasn’t really watching it. He just kept thinking about how unfun this all was and he was the downer. Sylvia didn’t need to be stuck around him.  He should just go home. </p><p>He pulled his legs out from underneath him and slipped on his shoes. He grabbed his sweatshirt from the back of the couch and tugged it in. </p><p>“Hey, what are you doing?” Sylvia asked. She paused the movie.</p><p>“Going home,” Carl mumbled. </p><p>“Hey, I’m sorry if I was too pushy about talking and I’m sorry about the hug thing making you uncomfortable,” she stood up. </p><p>Shit. She thought this was her fault. </p><p>“It’s not that,” Carl said, shaking his head. “It’s not because of anything you did.” </p><p>“Then what?” She looked at him intensely. Her eyes kept moving, searching his face for something. </p><p>“I’m not very fun,” Carl said, moresly.</p><p>“What?” She said. “What are you talking about?”</p><p>“I’m tired. I’m not in a good mood. I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want a hug right now. Everything you’ve offered I just keep turning down. So why stay here and drag you down?” Carl blurted out. He hadn’t meant to say all of that. </p><p>“So? You don’t owe me anything and we’re just watching a movie. It’s not a party,” she said, stepping closer to him. “Was I in a good mood every day of this week? No. Was it obvious? Fuck yes. I freaked out about homework on your couch. Did you want me to go home?”</p><p>“No,” Carl said. “Why would I want that?” </p><p>“Exactly. Why would I want you to go just because you’re not farting fucking rainbows?” She said gently. </p><p>Carl just stared at his shoes. She was trying to get him to laugh and he just couldn’t do it.</p><p>“I won’t stop you, but don’t go because that’s what you think I want,” Sylvia told him firmly. “What do you actually want?” </p><p>He looked up shly. This was an embarrassing shit show. “I want to stay.” </p><p>She smiled at him. He gave a tentative smile back. “Okay, then sit down. Take off your shoes. Whatever.” </p><p>He toed off his shoes and sat down. Sylvia looked kind of nervous of all of the sudden. </p><p>“This was not how I envisioned having this conversation,” she muttered to herself. She took a deep breath. “Carl, we’ve been hanging out a lot. So what are we? Are we dating?” </p><p>Carl felt a small flutter of happiness at the idea of dating. He wasn’t really sure what they were doing now. He’d honestly never had the “what are we doing?” conversation with a girl before. They’d just fucked and suddenly they called him their boyfriend.  “Um, do you want to be dating?” </p><p>“Yeah,” she said slowly, biting her lip. </p><p>“Me too,” Carl said, smiling at her. </p><p>She let out a relieved laugh. “Okay, so I can say you’re my boyfriend?” </p><p>Carl tried not to look too excited at that. He shrugged. “If you want.” </p><p>She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, the reason I asked that is because well we had to figure that out at some point. And because girlfriends don’t kick their boyfriends off their couch because they’re in a bad mood. They’re supposed to stick around for that.” </p><p>“Oh,” Carl said dumbly. </p><p>“Oh my god,” she said, exasperated.  “I asked you out while you were crying. I've had a full blown panic attack multiple times in the last few weeks. I think we may have skipped a few steps in the whole “when do you get personal” part. I care about you. So like, I want your cranky ass on my couch. You got it?” </p><p>“Jesus,” Carl said smiling. “Yeah, I got it.” </p><p>“Do you still want to watch this?” She asked. “We can do something else.” </p><p>For the first time in Carl’s life, that wasn’t suggesting they have sex. And that was fine. So fucking fine. “Yeah, but you might have to start it over. I wasn’t paying attention.” </p><p>“Sure,” She restarted the movie. Not that they got very far. </p><p>And if she wanted him around and he wanted her around, and she apparently cared about him and he cared about her… he kind of wanted the hug. “What if I want the hug?” Carl asked nervously. </p><p>“Then move over, so I can hug you,” she said. Carl scooted over and she stood up on her knees. She hugged him from the side. And Lip was right, again, it felt nice. He closed his eyes. She let go.</p><p>He turned red but fuck it. “We could...keep doing that… if you want,” Carl said awkwardly. </p><p>“You mean cuddle?” She said grinning. “What is it with guys? Just say the damn word already.” </p><p>“Yeah, cuddle, whatever,” Carl said nervously. </p><p>“Okay, but keep it PG,” she warned. She looked worried after she said that, like maybe that would be a problem. </p><p>“That was the plan,” Carl said. “Honest,” he held his hands up.</p><p>“I know,” she smiled brightly at him. “Since you’re the sad one I hold you and because I’m taller.” </p><p>“What?” Carl asked, laughing. “Who made up those rules?”</p><p>“Me but if you don’t want to cuddle that way, that’s fine,” she said, shrugging. </p><p>Carl’s brain got caught up for a second in how she was so beautiful and so nice, and he was just a complete dick with a womanizer reputation and juvenile rap sheet that was remarkably shorter than it should have been.</p><p>“Why are you so nice to me?” Carl said, wondrously .Oh shit he said that out loud.</p><p>“We just had this conversation. You’re my boyfriend. So come here so we can watch this movie sometime in the next 100 years,” she told him.</p><p>He moved and she squashed herself against the arm of the couch and he kinda slouched down, and she hugged him from behind. And it was fucking nice.</p>
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<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Part Sixteen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sylvia and Carl talk a lot... about nightmares and their families.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>All they do is blab.</p><p>I know this seems kind of weird for Carl, but this is like the idealized version of Carl who doesn't force personas of being tough, because I think he does in canon.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The gun went off, this time on Lip. No one was holding the gun. It just happened. Carl screamed and jerked awake. He fell off a couch onto the floor. </p><p>What the fuck? Did he fall asleep on her? What the fuck? He heard a chair scrape in the kitchen, and Sylvia was crouching next to him, looking worried in the single lamp that was still lit. </p><p>“Oh my god, I fell asleep on you,” he said. “I’m so sorry.” He pushed himself to sit up and put his head in his heads.</p><p>She shrugged. “I kinda pulled you off a while ago to do homework. But you need sleep so I just figured I’d just let you.” </p><p>Okay, now that was settled Carl’s brain went immediately back to the nightmare, and the new change. He didn’t notice he was shaking until a blanket was draped over his shoulders. They were sitting on the floor with their backs resting against the couch.</p><p>“So nightmares, is that why you’re tired?” She asked gently. </p><p>He nodded. He squeezed his eyes shut and grabbed his hair and pulled, like if he kept pulling the nightmare would come out. </p><p>“Do you want to talk about them?” She asked. </p><p>His eyes snapped open. Well no, he really couldn’t take about them because it would probably be upsetting for her because well her sister was actually fucking dead and it wasn’t just a bad dream.</p><p>“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he mumbled. She tilted her head at him silently. He sighed. “I think they’d be upsetting for you based on some stuff.”</p><p>“Oh” she said, seeming taken aback. “Well don’t give me the gory details then. Try me,” she said, determined. She turned to face him.</p><p>“Sylvia,” he said slowly.</p><p>“Hey, I get to to decide if something is too upsetting. If it is, I’ll just tell you, okay? This is my choice to hear if you want to say it?” She looked at him, leaving no room for argument.</p><p>He swallowed. Well, he would just get to the main point and see how that went. “My brothers die. It’s the same nightmare with variations. Over and over.” He looked nervously at her, trying to see if she was okay. </p><p>Sylvia held out a hand. He took it. She squeezed it. “I’m good. Are they just random… or based on something?” </p><p>“Based on something,” Carl whispered. “A lot of somethings.” </p><p>“Like what?” She asked quietly. “If you don’t want to answer that’s fine, and I’m also fine so stop looking at me like that.” </p><p>He blinked. He hadn’t realized he’d been looking at her a certain way. “Sorry.” </p><p>She squeezed his hand in response. He squeezed back.</p><p>“Okay.. but you’ll tell me to stop, right?” Carl’s foot was bouncing underneath him. </p><p>“Right,” she said. She stood up and tugged on his hand. Why don’t we actually sit on the couch?” Instead of sitting on the floor leaning against it. Yeah probably a more comfortable position. </p><p>They sat. She hadn’t let go of his hand, and he haden’t let go either. This was sappy. What the hell?</p><p>“I don’t want you to judge my brothers… one is bipolar and the other is an alcoholic, Ian and Lip” he said nervously. Should he really be talking about his brothers’ shit even though it was intertwined with his shit? </p><p>“How old are they?” Sylvia asked curiously.</p><p>“Ian’s 25. Lip’s 27,” Carl responded. </p><p>“So you’re the youngest?”</p><p>“I was until I was 6. Oldest to youngest it goes, Fiona, Lip, Ian, Debbie, me, Liam,” Carl listed off.</p><p>“That’s a lot of you,” Sylvia commented.</p><p>“Yeah, which makes for lots of problems,” Carl grumbled. </p><p>“Sorry, I got you off track. I was just curious about context,” Sylvia said, waving her hand for him to keep going. </p><p>“Lip has had his stomach pumped, I think, 4 times now. It’s gotten scary. It got scary once when I was alone with him a few years ago…” He glanced at her to see if she was okay. </p><p>She nodded at him to keep going.</p><p>“He was just...dying… in front of me,” he said slowly. Carl didn’t know if he could hear this if he were Sylvia.</p><p>She flinched when he said “in front of me”. </p><p>“Sorry,” he said, squeezing her hand. </p><p>She swallowed. “Keep going.” She looked pale.</p><p>“Uh, are you sure?” </p><p>“Yeah, for now,” she said looking him in the eye. </p><p>“Uh, okay. So that’s Lip. Then there’s Ian who is bipolar and it would take me hours to tell that whole story. But he manages it, he does everything he’s supposed to. And it just still fucks him over anyway, and I hate it.” Carl felt a lump in his throat. “He gets sick a lot. LIke he’ll have an episode, or his meds will make him sick, or they’ve messed up his immune system so much. They destroy his body basically, but he needs them or his mind destroys him. It’s fucked up.” </p><p>“Wow, yeah, that’s got to really fucking suck,” she said sympathetically. </p><p>“Right?” Carl agreed. “Actually the day you hit on me while I was crying, which is stil really fucking weird by the way...” She laughed. “We were at the hospital because they changed one of his meds at the free clinic and the doctor there basically fucked up. It can take awhile to get used to new meds and yeah, he can get pretty sick but he was like, not able to keep anything down and his hands were shaking. He was pretty miserable and he just got worse. When his husband called the clinic, they just told him to give it another week. We took him to the hospital. They sorted some stuff out. But, they said he probably wouldn't have made it a week if we had waited…” Carl felt the lump again. He was determined not to cry.</p><p>“Shit, I’m sorry,” Sylvia said while squeezing his hand. “Is he okay now?” </p><p>Carl smiled. “Yeah, this is the first week he’s seemed better. He made dinner the other night.” </p><p>Carl realized how ridiculous that sounded. Everyone made dinner. It was a normal fucking task. But for Ian, it was a damn accomplishment. </p><p>“Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m gonna stop, I didn’t mean to make it this long of an explanation,” Carl said. He took his hand out of Sylvia’s and rubbed his face with both hands. </p><p>“If there’s more, keep going,” she said. He looked at her skeptically. “Look, honestly Carl, this sounds like something you’ve never actually told anyone outside of your family about, and it seems like your family doesn’t really talk about it. That’s a lot of shit to hold in. I’m fine, I’m not getting upset. I’m an outside party. I’m not judging. Just say it,” Sylvia said. She looked at him so kindly, he had to look away or he’d cry.</p><p>“Okay, thanks,” Carl smiled tentatively. He held his hand back out and she took it. He stared at their linked hands for a second before continuing. “So then there’s Liam who is 10 and completely fine now, so it all works out. My sister had a party, parties just kind of happened in our house, and she had some coke. She left it out. She didn’t mean for Liam to get it. But he did. He put some in his mouth. He almost died. He was almost 3. My sister got arrested. That’s probably when Lip started drinking more. Ian had run away months before…” Carl trailed off again. He shook his head. “Everyone was focused on something else and I was just kind of there. Okay that is extra information that doesn’t matter to the point.”</p><p>“I’m actually getting to the point now about the nightmare,” He laughed self-deprecating. </p><p>“When Ian first got diagnosed, shit was tense. Fiona brought her boyfriend to dinner and it kinda just got out of control and about Ian. He got upset, and went outside. I went after him. I just dug around in a box. Took out some paintball guns and handed him one. Watching shit explodes helps sometimes,” Carl laughed a little.</p><p>“We shot up the yard in yellow paint and my sister was beyond pissed but Ian was laughing. Like actually laughing after looking like a zombie for months. And I had helped him laugh and I felt pretty great about that,” Carl said. </p><p>“You should,” Sylvia validated.</p><p>“So that’s a nice memory right?” Carl continued. It was coming out faster now and if he stopped he wasn’t going to start again. “My nightmare takes that, and completely twists it,” Carl said quietly. </p><p>“How?” </p><p>“Um, it’s kinda graphic,” Carl warned. Sylvia shrugged at him. “The first one and the one that happens most often is that the paintball gun is suddenly a real gun and Ian’s shooting himself in the head.” </p><p>Sylvia was silent. Carl looked at her. She seemed kind of stunned. </p><p>“Are you okay?” He asked, squeezing her hand to get her attention.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah,” she breathed out. “That’s intense. When did this start?” </p><p>“A few days ago.” Carl suddenly wanted to talk about the weird flashes of memories he was getting at random thing but he’d already talked too much and holy shit he had talked too much. This was going to ruin everything. Fuck shit fuck.</p><p>“Yeah, I can see why you’re tired,” she stated plainly but kindly. “That sounds pretty fucking awful. I’m sorry that’s happening.” </p><p>He shrugged. Yeah, it was awful. </p><p>“You talk to anyone else about this?” She asked curiously.</p><p>Carl shook his head. Sylvia studied him for a minute and looked like she wanted to say something, but let it drop.</p><p>Carl caught her eye. “Thanks,” he said hoping she got it, “for ya know..” Letting me talk too much and now you’re probably going to hate me soon but thank you for listening, you’re an angel. </p><p>“No problem. Feel any better?” She asked. </p><p>He thought about it and yeah, he did. It wasn’t all stuck in him anymore where he was the only person who knew about it and that was kind of freeing. To not be completely alone, even though Sylvia couldn’t fix his problem, which if she could, she’d be a genius.</p><p>“Yeah,” he grinned. “Wow. Yeah. I’ve never really done that.” He felt the need to shake out his hands for some reason, like he needed everything he said to get off of him.</p><p>“You’ve never talked about a problem with a friend or girlfriend or family member before?” She asked incredulously. </p><p>“Not going that deep, not really,” Carl said. She gave him this weirdly sympathetic look, like she was coming to some understanding about him that she didn’t have before. </p><p>“What time is it?” He asked, changing the subject. Almost 12 in the morning. Holy shit what did he do?</p><p>“Oh my god. You need to do homework and stuff,” Carl said standing up, running his hands through his hair. “I should go.” </p><p>“I can walk you back. You can also crash on the couch. Sorry, not sharing the bed with you yet,” she said, smirking.</p><p>“No, I can’t do that, I’ve taken too much,” he said anxiously. </p><p>“It might be better than waking up completely alone if you have another nightmare. And I’ll be up for a while doing work anyway. It’s almost spring break. They pile the shit on right before,” she explained.</p><p>She had a point. </p><p>“You literally would not be interrupting me. I’d be watching stupid videos or eating my weight in goldfish crackers instead of working for the same amount of time I’ve been with you,” She laughed. </p><p>“Okay,” he said hesitantly. It was better than waking up alone. His...girlfriend would be around. He smiled at that. He hadn’t truly processed that when they were talking about it. </p><p>She handed him some blankets and a pillow. “Okay, I’ll be in the kitchen behind you, if you need something. If you get hungry just take something. Bathroom is the first door in the hall.” </p><p>She breezed back into the kitchen before he could even think about arguing that he maybe shouldn’t do that. He wondered if she did that on purpose. “Thanks,” he said, calling over the couch.</p><p>He checked his phone for the first time in hours. Shit. </p><p>From Mickey 11:55pm</p><p>So you coming home or…? *winking face” <br/>You’ve got Franny tomorrow. But I’ll swap with you, and you can do the day after. I’ll take her to school.</p><p>Carl rolled his eyes. He loved how Mickey managed to be a complete annoying asshole and the most caring person that existed in one text.</p><p>To Mickey 12:16am</p><p>Thanks. I owe you one.</p><p>From Mickey 12:17am</p><p>*kissy face* *wink* *kissy face** *wink*</p><p>He was probably gleefully telling Ian about it right now. Actually, Ian was probably asleep so thank god. At least Carl didn’t have work tomorrow. He pulled a blanket around him, and settled into the couch. He fell asleep quickly.</p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>For the next week or so, Carl didn’t have any nightmares. He didn’t have any weird flashes of memories looking at random things. Maybe all he had to do was tell it to someone so it was out of his system. He wasn’t going to question it. He liked sleep too much.</p><p>Carl and Sylvia were at her house eating pizza from a box. There was never anyone ever else there, and Sylvia never offered any explanation. There wasn’t stuff and dishes that were someone else’s either.</p><p>“Do you live here by yourself?” Carl asked.</p><p>“At the moment,” Sylvia said. </p><p>“Nice,” Carl grinned. “I’ve literally never lived anywhere there weren’t at least three other people up my ass.” </p><p>She shrugged. “I don’t know. It gets kind of lonely, but yeah it’s nice.” </p><p>Carl bit his lip. She’d never really brought the topic up. “Where are your parents?” </p><p>Sylvia sighed and pushed her pizza away. “I don’t know. Somewhere in Europe. Blowing all the settlement money.” </p><p>“Oh,” Carl said.</p><p>“Yeah, they’re over there pretending they can be 20 again and that they never had kids,” She said. She sounded sad but also kinda angry.</p><p>“Do you miss them?” Carl asked.</p><p>“As the people they are now? No. As the people before,” she trailed off. “Yeah. I miss them.” She played with the crust of her pizza.</p><p>“That sucks. Maybe they’ll blow off some steam and come back better,” Carl said.</p><p>Sylvia laughed bitterly. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen so I’m not even going to entertain the idea,” she said firmly.</p><p>“Sorry,” Carl said.</p><p>She shrugged and started eating her pizza again. “Where are your parents? You never mention them either..” </p><p>“Mom is dead. Frank is a grade A alcoholic and drug addict who only cares about himself. I don’t know where he is. He comes back when he needs something. Neither of them were ever around that I remember,” Carl said. Well, there it was, his lovely family history.</p><p>“Do you miss your mom?” Sylvia asked.</p><p>“No,” Carl said immediately. “We’ve always been better off without her. I’m not like happy she’s dead, but she can’t blow in and fuck up our lives anymore.” </p><p>Sylvia said nothing for a minute and neither did Carl. “So it’s just you and your siblings?” </p><p>“Yeah,” Carl said. “Always has been.” </p><p>“Who paid for food and stuff?” Sylia asked curiously. “You were all just kids.”</p><p>“Fiona was in high school. She dropped out. She turned 18. So she made the money mostly. We did too,” Carl said. “It was mostly Fiona, and Lip and Ian.” </p><p>“Yeah, but you couldn’t all have been old enough to get hired,” Sylvia pointed out.</p><p>“If it wasn’t a corporation, the people who owned stuff didn’t give much of a shit,” Carl shrugged. He paused. “Odd jobs. We ran a daycare in the summer that Debbie took care of. I was supposed to help but I totally didn’t. And uh, Lip pulled off a lot of scams. We are the typical South Side White Trash, on steroids.” </p><p>He watched her face in reaction to that. She shook her head in disbelief. “That’s crazy that a group of kids figured out how to make money to survive.”  </p><p>“We’re crazy,” Carl smirked. “ and trust me, we didn’t make enough money to do shit.”</p><p>“I guess I got lucky. Parents had a 9 to 5. Yearly vacation. Family dinner,” She said. “I’m not from here.”</p><p>“Yeah, I can tell.”</p><p>“What’s that mean?” She asked laughing but also looking mildly offended.</p><p>“It’s not a bad thing. It’s like if we went to another country they probably could figure out easily just by watching us that we’re not from there,” Carl said, trying to keep her from getting offended further. That wasn't what he meant. </p><p>“Yeah, that’s true,” She said. She smiled. “So what’s my give away from watching me?” </p><p>Carl was relieved that she was smiling again. “I don’t know. You don’t have the look of always being on guard. You get taken advantage of or someone else takes advantage of you,” Carl explained. “Also, when that toddler was screaming motherfucker at his brother for not sharing the ball, your face was horrified. It was really funny, actually.”</p><p>“Yeah, because kids don’t curse like that!” She said indignantly.</p><p>“You come out of the womb, cursing here. If your kids' first words after mama and dada isn’t shit or damn, somethings wrong with the kid,” Carl said laughing. </p><p>Sylvia wasn’t laughing. “That’s kind of fucked up, you realize that?” </p><p>“That’s just life. If it’s not fucked up, it’s probably not normal,” Carl said. “Plus, most people are hungry all the time, so they’re extra cranky.” </p><p>He watched her process the meaning of that. It was kind of interesting, watching someone else react to what was so completely normal in your life. She clearly did not have the same experience growing up.</p><p>“Were you hungry all the time?” She asked quietly. </p><p>“Not in the same sense. We always had food. It wasn’t… fucking enough, or whatever,” Carl mumbled. </p><p>She was looking at him like he was something from a textbook that she’s seeing for the first time. That kind of confused Carl. She lived here. Didn’t she see anything? </p><p>“What about now?” She asked softly, staring at him intensely.</p><p>“Hell yeah I’m hungry all the time, I could eat all day,” Carl said grinning. She quirked a smile. Oh, that’s not what she meant. “No, we’re good now. We’re all adults. Franny and Liam got it good.” </p><p>Carl smiled at that, because yeah, Liam never went hungry. Liam always had eaten first. Carl doesn’t think Liam ever realized that, but he wasn’t supposed to. He was glad Franny and Liam didn’t really know that gnawing feeling in your stomach that makes you nauseous for days at a time.</p><p>“I’m glad,” Sylvia said simply. Carl was ready to stop explaining the norms of poverty to someone who never experienced. It was awkward.</p><p>“Where are you from?” Carl asked.</p><p>“New York,” she said. </p><p>“What?” Carl asked in disbelief. “What the hell are you doing all the way over here?” </p><p>“We kind of just picked up..and moved after the accident. The company my dad works for has an office here, so he could just transfer. My older sister already lived here. It was about as far away as we could reasonably get. They just picked around here because it was cheap, available, and had enough space. And they’re not here anyway,” Sylvia answered. </p><p>“Do you miss New York?” Carl asked. Moving everything you knew sounded terrifying.</p><p>She gave him a weird look that he couldn’t figure out. “Sometimes. Can we talk about something else?” </p><p>“I thought I was coming here to kick your ass at Mario or some shit?” Carl said, easily switching gears. He smirked at her.</p><p>“Yeah, I guess,” Sylvia said but she seemed kind of sad but shook herself “But I don’t think you’re kicking my ass.” She smirked at him.</p><p>She started setting up the game when Carl’s phone rang. It was his Sergeant. He had the day off. He picked up the phone nervously. “Hi Sergeant, everything okay?” </p><p>“I got your sister in here on a DUI. Thought I’d tell you personally,” she said.</p><p>“Debbie?” Carl asked in mild disbelief. Debbie didn’t usually do that shit. </p><p>“She’s refusing a blood test. If she doesn’t do it she could end up in jail for a few days, and lose her license completely. She won’t have a chance in court to dispute her charge properly,” Sergeant said.</p><p>“I’ll be right there, thank you for the heads up ma’am,” Carl said politely. As soon as he hung up he said “fucking Debbie.” </p><p>He glanced at Sylvia who was watching him. Shit. “Hey, I’m really sorry but I gotta go. My sister just got herself arrested and is being a dumbass about it.”</p><p>“Shit,” she said. “Kiss?” He smiled and they shared a brief kiss. “I’ll text you later,” and then he ran down the steps and back to the house to get the car.</p>
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<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Part Seventeen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Shit hits the fan.</p><p>**Alcohol abuse discussed entire chapter**</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay, so I changed canon. Ian and Mickey didn't have the dumb breakup on the porch. I'm pretty sure if Noel hadn't wanted to leave, that the characters wouldn't be able to make the breakup last long.  This comes up in one sentence of dialogue but I wanted to clarify. </p><p>Also, I have no idea if they have Dunkin Donuts in Chicago. I did check but there's like three in the state. So whatever. They probably don't call it McDonald's either but I'm just leaving my east coast dialect here.</p><p>There's no Sylvia in this chapter and it's not a happy chapter, but I have plans for a happier one with Sylvia in it for probably the next chapter so don't worry.</p><p>**Alcohol abuse discussed entire chapter**</p><p>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He didn’t put on his uniform but he did grab the utility belt with his badge and gun from the locked safe. Even if everyone else was a fucking idiot about leaving their guns around kids and a severely mentally ill person, he didn’t have to be.</p><p>On the way to the station he called Lip. </p><p>“Hey what’s up?” Lip answered, cheerily.</p><p>“Debbie just got fucking arrested for a DUI,” Carl spat out.</p><p>“What?” LIp said in disbelief. </p><p>“Yeah, my sergeant just gave me the heads up, which was real nice of her because apparently Debbie isn’t cooperating.” </p><p>“Where’s Franny?” Lip asked, getting worked up.</p><p>“At the house with Liam. Ian and Mickey will be back soon. She’s fine,” Carl assured Lip.</p><p>“Dude it’s like 3 in the afternoon, how does she have a DUI?” Lip said. He did this annoying thing when he was stressed out about something he didn’t know where he kept asking the question as if the answer was suddenly going to be a different answer. </p><p>“You need me to come meet you?”</p><p>“If you can. She might listen to you better. I’m just her dumb little brother,” Carl said.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there.”</p><p>--</p><p>Carl opened the door to the room they had Debbie in. He nodded at the officer. The officer was allowed to leave but had to stay within 3 feet of the door. She was sitting with her head in her hands at the table. She had some weird glittery shirt on and high heels that definitely did not look like something she would wear to work as a fucking handy woman. </p><p>She looked up when the door slammed and rolled her eyes. Carl sat in the chair opposite her, folded his heads on the table, and leaned forward, waiting for Debbie to say something. </p><p>“You gonna get me out of here?” She finally asked.</p><p>“You got to get yourself out of here first,” Carl said. </p><p>“What does that mean?” She huffed in annoyance.</p><p>“Cooperating.”</p><p>“I am coperatating,” Debbie slurred. </p><p>Carl stood up and motioned for the officer to stand in the room with Debbie. Carl put a cup of hot coffee in front of her.</p><p>“Drink that,” Carl commanded.</p><p>“Ooh, free coffee,” Debbie mocked. She took a sip. “That tastes like shit. I’m not drinking that.” </p><p>“You either drink it, or I walk out of this room and I can’t help you,” Carl told her. He hadn’t been planning on saying that but wow. He’d never given anyone such a harsh ultimatum before. </p><p>She laughed at him. He got up and put his hand on the door handle. She realized he was serious and started drinking the coffee. Carl let go of the door and stood behind the chair he was just in. </p><p>“You need to take a blood test,” Carl stated, like she was anyone else he had to tell procedure to.</p><p>“I’m not fucking take a blood test,” Debbie said and glared at him. The door opened. Lip walked in and she started laughing bitterly. </p><p>“You brought him? Mr. Alcoholic? Mr. I drank a 6 pack the other week?” Debbie wasn’t slurring anymore, but she sounded unsteady. </p><p>It took Carl a second to process that. He turned around to look at Lip. Lip looked white. “What?” Carl hissed.</p><p>“It was one time, I didn’t do it again,” Lip said, staring at the floor.</p><p>“Ha, yeah right,” Debbie said sarcastically. </p><p>Before Lip could even try responding, Carl shouted as loudly as possible without being over heard in the hall, “Two of you need to shut the fuck up!” </p><p>“Don’t move the attention off of you,” Carl said to Debbie, harshly. “You need to do the blood test.” </p><p>“I don’t legally have to,” Debbie said in a sing song voice.</p><p>“No you don’t but they’ll just probably give you jail time and suspend your license,” Carl said. Debbie didn’t react. </p><p>Jesus Fucking Christ. He crouched on the floor near her chair, and grabbed the middle of her shirt to force her to look at me. </p><p>“Not only that, but they’re going to start questioning if you have drugs in your system the longer you don’t cooperate. You take a piss test. Immediate answer. The blood test takes a few weeks, so you could at least fucking dispute your charge,” Carl said through gritted teeth.</p><p>“So take the fucking blood test now, before they hit you with a pee test. And if you refuse both you’re gonna be in even bigger shit. Jail,” Carl said. “If you care about Franny at all, you won’t do this to her.” </p><p>“Don’t tell me I don’t care about her, Carl,” Debbie snapped.</p><p>“Oh, they could also open a CPS case. You wanna do that to her?” Carl shook her shirt a little. He looked in her eyes and she glared at him. He stood up. </p><p>“I’m going to walk out of this room in five minutes, then you’re on your fucking own,” Carl spat.</p><p>Lip was looking between them and stepped forward. “I’m not the perfect fucking parent Debbie but you need to put her first here. She’s five years old and she did not do anything wrong. So are you really going to punish her for that?” Lip shouted as loudly as possible without being heard.</p><p>“Carl can walk out that door then, and when he does that, he screws Franny over too.” She crossed her arms looking smug. </p><p>“No, I’ll figure something out,” Carl said. “Don’t use a fucking kid, your fucking kid, as a bargaining chip!” </p><p>Lip kicked out the seat across from her and sat down. He spoke softly. “Listen to me, I don’t know how drunk you are right now, but when you are totally sober again, you’re going to hate yourself if you don’t do this blood test. The booze doesn’t give a shit about you. So give a shit about yourself. You want to let yourself down too? Debs, you don’t want to live with that kind of regret and guilt. Trust me on that,” Lip said. </p><p>Debbie stared into Lip’s eyes and Lip stared back. Debbie looked away and bit her lip. Carl wanted to say something but Lip stopped him, “Let her think about it for a few minutes, man.” </p><p>That was kind of a lot to take in, and Carl wasn’t even drunk. He nodded and stayed quiet.</p><p>Debbie looked at Lip and said, “Well you would know that not taking the test is stupid..” </p><p>LIp nodded. Debbie kept looking at her older brother and her face crumpled. Lip moved to crouch next to her and put a hand on her shoulder. </p><p>“I’m so fucked up,” Debbie said, crying. </p><p>“Join the club. You want to not feel so fucked up?” </p><p>Debbie nodded.</p><p>“Then you know what you need to do.” Lip squeezed her shoulder. </p><p>She nodded and wiped her face. “Okay, I’ll do it,” she said quietly to Carl. Carl breathed a sigh of relief as he told the officer at the door that Debbie was willing to do the test. </p><p>“Someone will be in, in a moment,” the other officer said. </p><p>“Who ever thought Carl would be the least fucked up person in the room?” Lip said smiling. Carl put his middle finger up. Debbie laughed a little bit. </p><p>“Okay, you both need to step out while we do the test. You don’t want any chance that anyone can claim tampering. Especially you, Gallagher,” the person with the blood test said. </p><p>Carl nodded and he left with Lip. They waited </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Lip mumbled. Carl stared hard at him. “Only once? So if I give you a breathalyzer right now, it will say 0?” </p><p>Lip looked stung that Carl didn’t just take his word for it. Carl hated how he couldn’t take his word for it. It made him feel sick. Lip nodded. </p><p>Carl came back with a test, and Lip blew into it. 0. </p><p>Carl let out a sigh of relief. “Sorry,” Carl muttered before walking away to get rid of the test.</p><p>“You let Ian and Mickey know where we are?” Carl asked.</p><p>“Yeah, texted them.” </p><p>“And you’re coming home,” Carl said. “No arguments.”</p><p>Lip just nodded.</p><p>“Where’s Tami?” Carl asked. </p><p>“Home.”</p><p>“Great, then she needs to come too,” Carl said.</p><p>Lip understood where this was going. Family meeting, motherfucker. “Come on,” Lip pleaded. </p><p>“Shut the fuck up. I’m not helping you if your ass lands in here too,” Carl said tersely. </p><p>--</p><p>“Okay, do we really all have to sit here and discuss how I fucked up?” Debbie grumbled.</p><p>“Yes,” everyone said at once. Then everyone looked at Carl. Why were they looking at him? He helped Debbie but he wasn’t in charge of her. They kept staring. </p><p>“We all have to discuss this. We all end up taking care of Franny even more than you do, and if they open a CPS case, it’s going to be even more of an issue,” Carl said awkwardly. </p><p>“You all don’t take care of Franny more than I do!” Debbie said indignantly. Lip put another cup of coffee down in front of Debbie with a pointed look, and sat next to Carl on the couch. </p><p>“Uh, yeah we do,” Mickey said. </p><p>“You don’t get a say in this,” Debbie snapped.</p><p>“Oh, okay. Then I guess I’ll just stop helping out with your daughter,” Mickey said, throwing his hands up. </p><p>“Guys,” Carl said, trying to get them to not blow up. He looked at Ian and Lip for support but they just shook their head.</p><p>“No, she needs to understand this Carl because she’s dumping most of the shit on you,” Mickey said. Ian and Lip nodded.</p><p>Mickey angled himself to look at Debbie. “Okay, so who coordinates who takes Franny, picks up Franny, figures out where she needs to be at a certain time? Carl. Who actually takes your kid to school? We all do. We having it fucking scheduled on whose turn it is. Who’s putting her to bed at night? Ian or Me. Who’s paying for her food and shit? Carl. Who scheduled a doctor’s appointment for her because she said her ear hurt? Carl. Who paid for that? Carl. Who paid for her ear drops? Carl. Who took her to the doctor and did all of that? Me and Ian. </p><p>Who cooks for her? Me and Ian, sometimes Lip. Who does her teacher call? Carl and then Ian. Not you, because you don’t fucking answer. Who remembers she got invited to birthday parties and playdates so she can still be a normal fucking five year old? Carl. Who takes her? Usually Lip for that shit. Who plays with her? All of us but mostly Liam even though he doesn’t always want to because he’d rather go see his friends, but he’s entertaining your kid. Who has to deal with all the tears and questions about where mommy is? All of us. Who has to fucking wash her pissy cloathes because she had an accident again at school? We do. </p><p>Who thinks she’s been doing that because she’s 5 and stressed out, and kids regress sometimes? Her teacher. All of us. Who has to help her when she cries that everyone is laughing at her for peeing her pants? We do. Who keeps all this shit and information together? Carl. Carl is the only one who is taking the lead on this, the rest of us just go where directed. So, tell me, where are you in all of this?” Mickey yelled. </p><p>“Jesus,” Carl mumbled. “Go to a theater if you’re gonna monologue like that.”  </p><p>Mickey flipped him off. “Did I miss anything?” </p><p>“No, that pretty much covers it,” Ian confirmed. </p><p>Everyone stared at Debbie. She sighed. “What do you want me to do?” </p><p>Carl groaned. “Act like her fucking mother again? What the hell is up with you?” </p><p>“Do you need help?” Lip asked gently. “Because we can get you it, if you tell us what’s going on.” </p><p>“Why don’t you worry about yourself here, Phillip,” Debbie spat and raised her eyebrows. </p><p>Carl didn’t know why he thought this would go any other way, but this was going fucking badly.</p><p>“What is that supposed to mean?” Tami interjected, looking put off.</p><p>Debbie laughed darkly. “Oh right, she doesn’t know.” </p><p>“Debs,” Carl said harshly. “We’re talking about you right now.”</p><p>Tami was looking at all of them and kept staring at Lip who wasn’t meeting anyone’s eyes. “Tell me what?” She asked again but it sounded more like a demand. “What is it?” </p><p>Everyone looked at Debbie since she brought it up. “No, I’m not doing that,” Debbie said.</p><p>“No, you’ll just bring shit up and watch chaos unfold,” Ian muttered. “And for the record, I have no idea what the fuck we’re talking about right now, so yeah what is it?” </p><p>Carl sighed. What the fuck? He nudged Lip’s foot. “Lip?” </p><p>They waited and he kept saying nothing. Tami was turning red. “Someone better tell me what the fuck is going on right now or--” She yelled.</p><p>“Jesus. Fuck. I’ll do it. Even though I’m not the one who saw it or brought it up. And I’m not the one doing it. But apparently Debbie saw Lip drink a six pack a few weeks ago. Lip says he hasn't done it since. I got him a breathalyzer at the station, and it was 0 so..” Carl held up his hands and leaned back. </p><p>The room was silent for a few seconds. Debbie looked smug. Tami looked betrayed. LIp’s jaw was clenched but he wasn’t looking up. </p><p>Tami started laughing bitterly. “Oh. You know, things are starting to make a lot more sense to me now. All your weird ass decisions the other week that you’re now trying to deal with. That fucking explains it, and I knew it. So when I asked you if you were drinking again, which means at all ever, you said no. I decided to trust you, asshole,” Tami yelled, standing up from her chair. </p><p>“The issue isn’t so much that you drank. It’s that you lied about it. You didn’t tell anyone so they could have fucking helped you if you were struggling. When was the last time you went to a meeting?” Ian asked, leaning forward.</p><p>Lip was still not even acknowledging their existence while they dealt with the shit he caused. Carl lost patience. “Are you going to fucking respond to anything or be a coward and stare at your fucking shoes?” </p><p>Lip slowly looked up. He stood up and stared at Carl. Carl met his stare back which was cut off by the fact that Lip had just slammed his fist into Carl’s face. Lip had punched him. Lip had neer fucking punched him for real. Never. Carl felt like his whole brain had left the room and he was stuck there. </p><p>He froze while everyone around him reacted. Ian had gotten up and pulled Lip away from Carl and pushed him out into the back yard. The two of them were screaming at each other. Liam rushed down the steps from upstairs where he was playing with Franny and Freddie.</p><p>“What happened to Carl?” Liam yelled. No one answered him. Everything was in complete chaos.</p><p>Carl’s nose was bleeding. Mickey was trying to push tissues into Carl’s hands but they were limp. So Mickey kneeled in front of him and started dabbing it himself. Tami moved outside to join the yelling. Debbie stood up. His brain zoomed in on her.</p><p>“You happy now?” Carl snapped at Debbie. Or he tried to snap, but it came out as more of a broken up whisper. </p><p>She stomped up the stairs. </p><p>And all of this? Was why Carl should keep his fucking mouth shut. </p><p>He knocked Mickey’s hands from his face and stood up, and went out the door. He reached in his pockets. He still had his phone and wallet but had put the car keys down in the kitchen. He wasn’t going back for them so he sprinted down the street. He didn’t pay attention to where he was running until the sound of the El going over his head startled him. He tripped on the muddy grass and landed on his back in a pile of gravel. Fuck.</p><p>--</p><p>There was a screech of wheels, and a car door slamming.</p><p>“Carl!” Mickey yelled, running towards him. Mickey dropped next to Carl. Mickey put Carl’s face in his hands looking at his eyes. “You hit your head?” </p><p>Mickey’s face was so terrified that Carl immediately went to reassure him. “No, I tripped and landed on my back.” </p><p>“Then why are you still on the fucking ground?” Mickey shouted in exasperation. </p><p>“Didn’t feel like getting up,” Carl said. </p><p>Mickey rolled his eyes and grabbed Carl by his arm. Carl yelled in pain, not expecting the pain to even be there. Mickey hauled him up by the front of his sweatshirt then. Mickey grabbed Carl’s wrist and held up his right arm. He twisted it so he could see his elbow. The whole elbow of the sweatshirt was ripped and his elbows were cut up. </p><p>“Fuck, you’ve got bits of gravel in there,” Mickey muttered. “Come on,” he said to Carl.</p><p>Carl shook his head. “I can’t go back.” </p><p>“Why the hell not?” Mickey asked, alarmed. </p><p>“I talked so so much and now everything is ruined. You’re all better off without me there. Okay? Go home,” Carl said in a hard voice.</p><p>Mickey raised his eyebrows so high, it would have been funny any other time. “What, so your plan is just to bleed under the El?” </p><p>“I guess,” Carl shrugged. </p><p>“You guess?” Mickey repeated. He turned around and scratched his eyebrow. “No, let’s go.” </p><p>Mickey hauled him up. Carl dug his feet in. “Don’t make me fucking carry you,” MIckey growled. </p><p>Carl was shaking his head back and forth. “I can’t go home.”</p><p>“Okay we’re not going home, we’re getting in the car and taking a breather.” Carl paused, this could just be a trick to get him in the car and then speed off, but Mickey had never lied to him before.</p><p>He nodded. Mickey guided him into the front seat. He shuffled around the back in the trunk and pulled something out. Mickey went back around to the front and climbed in the driver's seat, and flicked the car light on. “I guess we’re lucky your brother is fucking obssessive about leaving these everywhere,” MIckey said as he popped open a first aid kit.</p><p>“Let me see your elbow,” Mickey said. “We’re gonna need to get the sweatshirt off. Carl unzipped the front and pulled down on his sleeve to get his arm out and hissed as the cloth made contact with his cuts. </p><p>“Just gonna rip it,” Mickey said. “Was ruined anyway.” </p><p>Mickey cleaned up the blood and sanitized as best as he could with the tiny alcohol wipes in the kit. He was poking the tweezers around in Carl’s elbow. Carl was gritting his teeth. </p><p>“Fuck man, I’m sorry,” Mickey said as he had to poke around more. He squeezed the skin around Carl’s elbow. Carl closed his eyes and braced his feet against the door. The pebble slid into view. “Got it!” MIckey said. </p><p>Thankfully his other elbow was clear. After he had huge bandaids covering his elbows. Mickey threw everything back in and turned the engine over. </p><p>“Diner?” Mickey asked casually, looking to the side at Carl.</p><p>Carl looked down at himself. He was covered in mud. Mickey’s knees were soaked black. “I don’t think they’d let us in there,” Carl said.</p><p>“Oh right,” Mickey said. “Probably not. Drive through?” </p><p>Carl shrugged. “If you want.” </p><p>‘I’m not in the mood for Dunkin Donuts, Piggy. You’ll have to settle for McDonalds and hope they don’t butcher you.”</p><p>Carl rolled his eyes but smiled. “Oh my god,” he groaned in a teasing voice.</p><p>Mickey started driving. “We’re gonna have to patch you up again later when we get home.” </p><p>Carl stiffened. Mickey held a hand up from the steering wheel to pause him. “Just listen. You’re going to have to go back home to clean up. If you want to go somewhere else after you’re cleaned and patched up. Fine.”</p><p>Carl nodded slowly. “Okay, thanks.” </p><p>MIckey had bought a whole double deal meal at McDonald’s. It was splayed out in between them. Carl just drank the milkshake. They were parked in the parking lot. MIckey obnoxiously slurped ketchup off his finger, and Carl wrinkled his nose. </p><p>“We kinda need you at home though,” Mickey said. “Or the least, I do,” Mickey said softly.</p><p>Carl’s rebuke died in his mouth. Did Mickey really just say that? Mickey took in Carl’s shocked face. “Yeah, this is a once in a life time experience, kid. Pay attention.” </p><p>Carl realized his mouth was hanging open and snapped it shut. </p><p>Mickey shoved his burger in his face again and talked around it. Well trust Mickey to get all soft on you but ruin the scene by shoving food in his face. “You’re the only person in that house who doesn’t drive me nuts. Okay, well Franny and Liam don’t either. The only other adult.” </p><p>Carl raised his eyebrows.</p><p> “Oh come on, you know your brother is fucking annoying at times. I’m pretty sure I annoy him too. But Ian never shuts the fuck up when you want him to, and says fucking nothing when you need him to. He runs around with all of these ridiculous ideas. And I don’t mean when he’s manic. All day in the ambulance at work. ‘Hey Mick you ever thought of, what if, blah blah...” </p><p>Carl started laughing at Mickey’s ramble that Mickey didn’t seem to realize he was complaining with a lovesick expression on his face. Mickey seemed to have realized himself. He laughed a little bit and then cleared his throat. “Anyway, you’re the only other adult that doesn’t drive me nuts. You’re the only other person who just talks to Ian like he’s Ian, no matter what. Like, you can change your tone and you can’t tease him all the time, but you’re still talking to him as if  he’s Ian and not some weird idea of someone else.” </p><p>Carl turned slightly red. Mickey continued. “You’re like the only person he would talk to or voluntarily be around when he first got diagnosed. The whole fucking Sammi thing and the almost-break up on the porch.. whatever.” </p><p>“Lip said that too,” Carl murmured. </p><p>“Sometimes he’s not a complete dumbass,” Mickey commented. </p><p>“Are you done monologuing about me? Again.” Carl asked. </p><p>“Actually no, so shut up,” Mickey said pointing his finger at Carl. Carl rolled his eyes and muttered “christ” under his breath. </p><p>“You kind of really suck at doing dishes and cooking most things, but you pick up the slack everywhere without saying anything. You just do it. No one ever tells you thank you, so, thanks, man.” </p><p>“Are we done now?” Carl groaned. </p><p>“No. When I was losing my fucking mind the other week when Ian was super sick and needed to go to the hospital. You helped me. I couldn’t think straight. You don’t get fucking annoying about it either. I trust you. You’re the only other person I trust in that house completely other than Ian.” Mickey had tears slipping out of his eyes.</p><p>“Oh my god!” Carl moaned. “I swear to god I’m about to run again.” </p><p>“What don’t like hearing nice things about yourself? Tough. You’re so good Carl. When you were a kid you were lighting fucking cats on fire, and you’re a really good person now,” Mickey reached over and shook Carl’s shoulder. “You are so fucking good,” MIckey reiterated making Carl look him in the eye. </p><p>“We need you at home. I need you. Ian needs you. You don’t fuck up anything by talking. You are a human that’s had bad shit happen to them. People have fucking feelings and problems about that. And it’s not fucking pretty Lip punched you in the face. But that’s not something that is your fault. Can you handle some stuff in a better manner? I actually don’t fucking know, but like I’m sure we all could. So like I’m fucking dead serious, I understand if you wanna go somewhere else for a bit, but don’t think you ruin everything,” Mickey said gently. </p><p>Carl was looking at his lap. “Are you done now?” </p><p>“Yep,” Mickey said. “So we’re still going home to clean up. I won’t stop you if you want to leave after to get some space or whatever.”</p><p>“Does Ian know that you can spend 10 minutes basically professing your love to me?” Carl smirked.</p><p>“Shut up,” Mickey grumbled. He was red now. “You better have listened. Not fucking do it again.” </p><p>They lapsed into comfortable silence. Carl broke it hesitantly. “MIckey?” </p><p>“Mhm?” </p><p>“You now you’re really fucking good too, right? You’re not all the shit you grew up with. You’re good, okay?” Carl felt tears in his eyes. </p><p>He wiped them. “What the fuck?” Carl muttered. </p><p>Mickey started laughing. “See, look it’s not just me.”</p><p>They were getting closer to their street. “Mickey? Thank you,” Carl said hoping that his face and tone conveyed how deeply thankful he was. </p><p>Mickey parked and ruffled Carl’s hair. “Let’s go. Ian will kill me if that gets infected,” Mickey said nodding at Carl’s elbows. </p><p>It was quiet at the house. Like almost nothing had happened. Carl took a breath, and opened the door to whatever was waiting for him. He was immediately smashed against Ian’s chest with his stupid long arms around Carl. </p><p>Mickey locked the door. “I literally texted you that he was okay.” Mickey shook his head. </p><p>Carl realized he should probably actually hug back. He brought his arms up and gave Ian a squeeze, and then patted his back. Carl pulled away a bit, and Ian dropped his arms finally. Ian’s face brightened at the bags in Mickey’s hands. “You brought food!” </p><p>“No, it’s for me and Carl,” Mickey shoved Ian playfully. Ian rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you’ll both share.” </p><p>They dumped everything onto the kitchen table. “Where’s Lip?” Carl asked anxiously. </p><p>Ian sighed. “Upstairs. Sleeping.” </p><p>“Tami?” Carl asked.</p><p>“She went home with Fred. I think she wanted space from him for a bit. She’ll be back,” Ian said. </p><p>“Okay great,” Mickey said. “Jolly Green Giant Ian the baybsitter for fucking everyone. How are you even still awake?” </p><p>Ian looked guilty. “I had a caffeinated soda.”</p><p>“Okay. Your caffeinated ass while doped down from meds is annoying. Go to bed,” Mickey said pushing him up the stairs.  Mickey went up with him for a minute. Carl just awkwardly stood there in the kitchen. </p><p>Mickey came back down. “He shouldn’t have even stayed up.” </p><p>“It’s barely 12,” Carl said, giving Mickey a weird look.</p><p>“Yeah, and he never makes it past like 9:30 haven’t you noticed?” Mickey grumbled.</p><p> Carl groaned and went to sink on a chair when Mickey pulled him up. “Don’t put your dirty ass on there. Go shower. I’ll grab you clothes. Don’t track that shit everywhere. Here use this bag.”</p><p>“Okay mom,” Carl said. “I have fucking work tomorrow at 8. Fuck.” </p><p>“Faster you shower, faster we patch you up, faster you go to sleep,” Mickey said, using the same tactic he uses with Franny. </p><p>“Okay, mom,” Carl said again and headed up stairs. Mickey came back with clothes and threw them into the bathroom. Carl heard him go into the bedroom he shared with Ian. The walls were connected. </p><p>“Aw, Ian,” Mickey said in that crazy tender voice again. “Why are you crying instead of sleeping?” </p><p>Carl felt guilty that Ian was up and had to deal with this shit. Carl turned the water on. He’d be pissed if someone intentionally listened to his private conversations. Poor Mickey. He always somehow ended up having to field everyone’s crises. Fuck. Carl hoped Ian and Mickey got super rich with their drug thing so they could move to their own private island. </p><p>After finally being patched up by Mickey, Carl threw himself on the bed. He’d just thrown the clothes out. They were so old they were probably Lip’s first and so dirty and ripped that it wasn’t worth it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Part Eighteen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sylvia has dinner with Carl's family.</p><p>*discussion of sibling death*</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>**Discussion of sibling death**</p><p>I kind of have an idea for a sequel, companion fic? Whatever, that is more focused on Carl and Sylvia but I don't know if I'd actually write it or anyone would want to read it. </p><p>I cringe every time I write them though. They're not cringe, but my writing is lol</p><p>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Carl stood in front of the mirror, poking his freshly forming bruise around his eye. Mickey walked by. “Poking it ain’t gonna do shit.” </p><p>“Where’s Lip?” Carl asked. It felt like he was choking on glass. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. </p><p>Mickey jabbed his thumb behind him. His old bedroom door was shut. Carl nodded and brushed his hair to the side. He groaned. “I’ve gotta go to work looking like this.” </p><p>“What am I even going to say if someone asks?” Carl said. “I can’t say I got in a fight with some random kid. Or that someone jumped me. I’m a fucking police officer.” </p><p>“The truth?” Mickey said like it was no big deal. “My brother got mad at me and punched me during an argument. Family bullshit.” </p><p>“I guess,” Carl said, unsure. A groan came out of his old room. Fuck. He ran down the steps. He was going to have to see Lip at some point because he had to leave soon. He’d just rather not see him right as the asshole was waking up. </p><p>Ian gave him a weird look as he scrambled downstairs. “He’s up,” Carl said as explanation. </p><p>“What are you going to do?” Ian asked him from his seat at the kitchen table. He was always eating that shitty off brand fruit loop cereal. Carl tried it once and it was fucking disgusting and he kind of grimaced everytime he saw Ian eat it.</p><p>“Fuck if I know,” Carl said. He was not sitting around eating breakfast here. That much he knew. He poured coffee in a travel cup. He grabbed a banana and granola bar. He took his lunch box out of the fridge and threw them in there. </p><p>“I’m leaving early,” he told Ian. Then ran down the steps to get his utility belt and gun. He got as far as putting on his jacket at the door when Lip came down the steps looking like shit. Carl froze. Lip looked around at the room. Lip’s eyes landed on him and widened at the black eye Carl had. He opened his mouth to say something but Carl just ground out “don’t.” He grabbed his lunch and rushed to the car. </p><p>He honestly still didn’t know how he felt about anything other than betrayed and angry. And guilty for being so fucking stupid to even talk to Lip in the first place. He wasn’t sure he really wanted to sort that out any time soon. He’d rather go to work and focus on that. Carl sat in the station parking lot eating his breakfast. He was going to avoid everyone looking at his eye as long as possible. </p><p>From Sylvia 8:09am</p><p>Are you okay?</p><p>Oh. He forgot to text her. No my brother punched me in the face. No I’m a fucking idiot. No I just want to crawl in a hole for a while and not exist. </p><p>To Sylvia 8:12am</p><p>Yeah, sorry. Got hectic.</p><p> </p><p>From Sylvia 8:15am</p><p>You coming over later?</p><p> </p><p>To Sylvia 8:18am</p><p>I’ll try. Depends on shit at home. I’ll let you know.</p><p>No. He did not want to come over and have her see his eye. If his eye wasn’t a fucking black baseball, he would have said yes. </p><p>She sent a thumbs up. He grabbed his banana peel and granola bar wrapper, and got out of the car. He dumped it in the trash. He couldn’t avoid going in any longer or he’d be late. </p><p>He answered questions about his eye with the vague truth like Mickey said, and people seemed to just accept after making a comment or shaking their head. He was eating his sandwich at a desk, scrolling through logged paperwork. His phone lit up.</p><p>From Lip 1:00pm</p><p>Can we talk later? </p><p> </p><p>To Lip 1:06pm</p><p>Not ready to talk to you yet.</p><p> </p><p>From Lip 1:07pm</p><p>The fuck does that mean?</p><p> </p><p>To Lip 1:09pm</p><p>In plain English. “No, we cannot talk motherfucker.</p><p> </p><p>From Lip 1:13pm</p><p>Wow. Mature.</p><p> </p><p>To Lip 1:17pm</p><p>I’m not the one who fucking punched his little brother for no good reason because they couldn’t handle the heat of being caught in a lie. I didn’t do shit to you. Don’t talk about being mature. </p><p>To Lip 1:20pm</p><p>You better not be around later because I might just fucking return the favor of this nice black eye. Go fuck yourself.</p><p>He actually had no intention of hitting Lip in the face but he was pissed. Why not say it? It’s not like it would be unfair for him to hit back. He couldn’t remember ever talking to Lip like that. It felt good, let him have his own medicine. </p><p>The rest of the day dragged on and he procrastinated going home because he didn’t know if Lip was there. </p><p>To Mickey 6:09pm</p><p>Is Lip still there? <br/>.</p><p>From Mickey 6:12</p><p>Nope. Tami dragged him back.</p><p> </p><p>To Mickey 6:15pm</p><p>Ok. Thanks. Be home soon.</p><p> </p><p>From Mickey 6:17pm</p><p>No girlfriend tonight?</p><p> </p><p>To Mickey 6:18pm</p><p>No. Can’t.</p><p> </p><p>From Mickey 6:19pm</p><p>If it’s because you don’t want her to see your eye, you’re fucking stupid. </p><p>Carl ignored that and drove home.</p><p>To Sylvia 6:45pm</p><p>Can’t tonight. Sorry!</p><p>He didn’t bother looking at the response. He went in the house. Surprisingly, there was no one in the kitchen or living room. Carl could hear Ian and Mickey lightly bickering about fucking shampoo smells upstairs. As Carl opened the door to the basement he heard Liam yell, “Would you two shut up I’m trying to study!” Carl laughed and shook his head. He turned off his phone. It’s not like he really needed to, but it felt better. One less way of getting to him.</p><p>Carl skipped eating dinner upstairs and made peanut butter and jelly in the basement. He kept some food down there in case things were crazy. There was a knock on the basement door and then it opened a bit.</p><p>“Carl? Can I come down there?” Ian yelled down the stairs.</p><p>Ugh. Ian was going to try to get him to talk.. But Carl can’t tell Ian to fuck off until he actually tries to get him to talk about Lip. </p><p>“Yeah, whatever,” Carl yelled. Ian came down and gestured at the couch. Carl nodded. Ian sat.</p><p>“We left some pasta for you,” Ian said. </p><p>“Thanks. I’m good,” Carl said back. He held up the other half of his second peanut butter and jelly sandwich. </p><p>“That’s a depressing dinner,” Ian scoffed. </p><p>Carl shrugged. “How was running around in the army suits today?” Carl asked. If he got Ian to do the thing where he never shuts up about something, he’d be in the clear. </p><p>“It was fine. Boring. Mickey was grumpy as fuck.after lunch,” Ian complained.</p><p>“Why is he grumpy?” Carl asked.</p><p>“Go ask him,” Ian said dismissively. Carl rolled his eyes. Oh okay. Sounds more like they both annoyed the fuck out of each other because they are together every fucking second but Carl wasn’t opening that can of worms. </p><p>Carl couldn’t think of any small talk to pull out of his ass and Ian was staring at him intensely. </p><p>“Can I fucking help you with something?” Carl asked, irritated.</p><p>“So Lip is--” Ian started.</p><p>“I don’t care,” Carl said, cutting him off. He realized he didn’t want to hear shit until he figured out how he felt and he had no desire to figure that out either.</p><p>Ian sighed and kept going but Carl kept chanting I don’t care over Ian’s voice.</p><p>“Jesus Carl.” Ian pinched the bridge of his nose. Carl turned on his phone and pulled up the text conversation he’d had with Lip earlier. He threw the phone down at Ian. </p><p>Ian picked it up, and frowned. “You’re not actually going to hit him, are you?”</p><p>Carl felt a flash of anger. “That’s what you’re fucking worried about? Not how he can’t take a perfectly polite denial to talk? Not how he punched me in the fucking face?” </p><p>“Woah,” Ian dropped the phone back down like it was made of fire. “I did not say that, Carl. And of course I’m worried he punched you in the face and can’t act like an adult. But if you would listen to what I was trying to tell you earlier,” Ian was cut off by Carl chanting he didn’t care.</p><p>“Wow, that’s real mature,” Ian rolled his eyes. </p><p>Carl shrugged. He knew it wasn’t. “I don’t give a fuck.”  </p><p>“Whatever, you always take his side on everything,” Carl grumbled and flopped back on the bed.</p><p>“What? There are no sides.” Ian said, exapserated. “I can care about both of you at the same fucking time.”</p><p>“Just go away,” Carl moaned, turning facedown in the bed. Fuck. Her eyes were watering and his nose was starting to run. He didn’t want to cry about this at all, let alone in front of fucking Ian.</p><p>Ian seemed to have caught on because his voice completely changed into a sympathetic big brother. “Carl,” Ian tried.</p><p>“Go away,” Carl repeated. He felt like he was 7 and had a bunch of bigger kids follow him home and humiliated him. He didn’t let anyone talk to him then either. Just his face down saying “go away.” He didn’t talk about it but he learned how to hit back as good as he got.</p><p>“Okay, I’ll be upstairs on the couch for a while,” Ian told him softly. Carl listened to his footsteps and the door opening and shutting.</p><p>:You want me to try talking to him?” Mickey asked. </p><p>“No, give him space. Let’s go,” Ian said. </p><p>Their voices moved away from the door. His phone kept lighting up near his face. He grabbed it to turn off again but he stopped.</p><p>From Sylvia 8:32 pm</p><p>Some girls told me some stuff about you at school today. <br/>Is that why you didn’t want to come over?</p><p>Carl’s blood turned to ice. Jesus christ. Well, if she found out what a shithead he was as a kid. It’s not that he didn’t want her to know. He just thought there would be more time or he would be the one to tell her... he guessed he could kiss this relationship goodbye. Along with the one he had with his brother. Fuck. </p><p>Who the hell were these girls? Well now, if he really wanted to prove that he wasn’t avoiding her for whatever reason she thinks it is, he’d have to tell her about his black eye. He took a quick picture of himself.</p><p>To Sylvia 8:34pm</p><p>Yeah? Like what? What girls?</p><p>*photo file*</p><p>And if you gotta fucking know, that’s why I didn’t want to hang out. </p><p> </p><p>From Sylvia 8:38pm</p><p>What happened to your face???</p><p> </p><p>To Sylvia 8:42pm</p><p>People have been asking me that all day and I’m tired of explaining it, and I didn’t feel like explaining it to you. Short story, my brother punched me in the face. That’s it. </p><p> </p><p>From Sylvia: 8:44pm</p><p>Okay. <br/>And they said these rumours that you had cornrows, went to Juvie, sold drugs, and were like a gangster. <br/>Girls at school who apparently went to school with you. Allie? </p><p> </p><p>To Sylvia 8:45pm</p><p>I have no idea who that fuck that is.<br/>Not rumours. So?</p><p> </p><p>From Sylvia 8:50pm</p><p>I find it hard to believe you were any of those things. And at the same time it makes perfect sense. <br/>So? If you’re not into that shit now, then it doesn’t matter to me.</p><p> </p><p>To Sylvia 8:51pm </p><p>I haven’t been in that shit since I was 16. So no, I’m not into it.</p><p>From Sylvia 8:53pm</p><p>I don’t know if I believe you did all of that but you seem famously infamous.<br/>*laughing emoji* *tongue sticking out emoji*</p><p> </p><p>To Sylvia 8:54pm</p><p>Well you could come over for dinner tomorrow and ask my brothers?<br/>But my house is a damn circus.</p><p>--</p><p>They heard yelling as they approached the house. Carl started laughing. Sylvia looked at him and then the house, both bemused and amused.</p><p>“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Carl said, giving her a pointed look.</p><p>He opened the door.</p><p>“Take with food does not mean take the pill and eat 20 minutes later! You wanna shit your pants?” Mickey yelled.</p><p>“Nice,” Carl muttered under his breath. He glanced at Sylvia, and almost started laughing at her face of complete shock.</p><p>“I have never shitted my pants!” Ian yelled back. </p><p>He looked at Sylvia and grimaced. “Um hello?” Carl tried. </p><p>“Just take the damn thing later. I’m not fucking sitting up all night with you in the bathroom while you bitch. You can do that on your own.” </p><p>“Hey!” Carl yelled. They still couldn’t hear him. </p><p>“Okay! Jesus!” Ian yelled. Ian slammed the pill bottle back on the counter. “Why are we even screaming at each other right now?”</p><p>“Would you two shut the fuck up?” Carl tried yelling. Sylvia was wide eyed but curious.</p><p>“I don’t know because you’re being fucking stupid!” Mickey shot back. </p><p>“Oh my god can we please just stop before Carl brings his girlfriend over,” Ian asked Mickey. They quieted a bit, staring at each other.</p><p>“Well, too late for that,” Carl said. The two of them whipped around and turned red. </p><p>“Why didn’t you say you were there? Jesus!” Mickey said embarrassed.</p><p>“I did. Like three times. You two fuckheads just can’t stop arguing like old women for five seconds to hear me,” Carl replied. </p><p>Mickey and Ian looked at each other. </p><p>“I’m just...gonna give you guys a minute…,” Carl said and grabbed Sylvia to head downstairs. </p><p>“I told you! It’s a fucking shit show,” Carl said. “I’m so sorry.”</p><p>Sylvia shrugged and then smirked at him. “A ‘shit’ show?”</p><p>“Oh my god,” Carl groaned and rolled his eyes. </p><p>Carl yelled up, “And I mean like a minute, not 30 minutes while you two bang on the floor.” </p><p>“Fuck you!” Ian and Mickey said at the same time.</p><p>Sylvia started laughing. “Are they always like that?” </p><p>“Yeah, but they’re so in love with each other that it doesn’t even matter,” Carl said. </p><p>“Okay!” Ian yelled.</p><p>“Wanna try this again?” Carl asked.</p><p>“Sure,” Sylvia said. </p><p>They climbed up the steps and opened the door. “Wow hi, this is Ian and that’s Mickey, and this is Sylvia,” Carl said with pointed enthusiasm. </p><p>“Hey,” Mickey said.</p><p>“Nice to meet you,” Ian said smiling at her. </p><p>Ian stepped on Mickey’s foot. “Ow, oh, nice to meet you too.” </p><p>“Likewise.” She bit the inside of her cheek so she didn’t start laughing.</p><p>Ian turned around and hissed in Mickey’s ear. “You can’t just say hey. This one is actually good for him. Are you trying to embarrass the shit out of him?” </p><p>“Are you?” Mickey hissed back.</p><p>“Well, it’s working,” Carl grumbled, and turned red. He chanced a glance at Sylvia, she was still biting her cheek. Her eyes were laughing.</p><p>He didn’t have a dad to do this shit to him. He wasn’t sure if that would be better or worse than an older brother and his husband.</p><p>“Where’s Liam?” Carl asked louder.</p><p>“Upstairs,” Ian answered. “I don’t know where Debbie is but that but that’s nothing new. Here take these plates and put them on the table.forks too.” Carl grabbed the plates and silverware.</p><p>“Here, give me the forks,” Sylvia said.</p><p>“Thanks,” Carl said awkwardly. Carl handed her the silverware. Ian said forks but meant spoons and knives too.</p><p>The front door opened and slammed. “That’s probably Debbie,” Ian muttered.</p><p>“Uncle Mickey!” Franny ran screaming into the house over to Mickey who picked her up and put her on his hip.  Debbie wasn’t making an appearance.</p><p>“Where’s your mom?” Ian asked.</p><p>“She dropped me off at the door. She said she has work,” Franny informed them.</p><p> Ian, Mickey, and Carl exchanged a look. Did she not hear anything Mickey had said the other day when the whole family meeting blew up? </p><p>“Go put your stuff down kid,” Mickey said, dropping her to the floor. She took off her little pink backpack and left it by the door and hung up her sweater.</p><p>“You’re not going to say hi to me?” Ian asked, pouting exaggeratedly. </p><p>“No,” Franny said haughty and stuck her tongue out at him. Mickey opened his mouth to say something but Franny said, “I will say hello. Hello Uncle Ian,” she reached up for a high five.</p><p>Mickey put his head in his hands, and grumbled, “seriously.” Everyone burst out laughing. “You gonna say hi or hello to Uncle Carl and his friend?” Ian said, nudging her forward. </p><p>Franny skipped over to them. “Hi AND hello Uncle Carl.” </p><p>Carl laughed. “This is Sylvia. Can you introduce yourself to her?” </p><p>“Hey,” Franny said and then nothing else. </p><p>“You’re a bad influence on her,” Ian whispered. </p><p>“You have to tell her your name and say nice to meet you,” Carl told her. </p><p>“Okay. I’m Franny. Nice to meet you,” Franny said and ran away before Sylvia could introduce herself. </p><p>Mickey caught her by her arm. “Alright Frances, slow down. Dinner is in 10 minutes, okay?” </p><p>Carl picked up her school bag from the door. “If we don’t do this now, we’re going to forget about it.” He frowned. He opened a yellow folder and pulled out a note. Then he pulled up a tied plastic bag of clothes. </p><p>Carl sighed and threw it onto the washing machine, and handed the note to Ian. MIckey read over his shoulder. </p><p>“Fuck,” Ian muttered. “We’ll talk later about it,” he said. He folded up the note and stuck it in his back pocket.</p><p>“I’ll go talk to her,” Mickey turned the stove off. This is done anyway.” </p><p>Ian grabbed his elbow. “You do that now and she’s not going to eat dinner,” Ian said.</p><p>“True,” Mickey said, running his hand down his face.”I’ll just go get her and Liam for dinner.” </p><p>Ian stared at him skeptically. Mickey rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to deal with her hungry ass tantrum later either, chill.” </p><p>Mickey went up the stairs.</p><p>“Okay but did you see the part where she apparently said fuck after it happened?” Carl said lowly, laughing.</p><p>Ian laughed too but tried to contain himself. “Stop, it’s not funny.” </p><p>“Hey! I don’t curse in front of her. At least not while talking directly to her. Mickey says fuck every other word. He’s her favorite. Who do you think she’s going to copy? She’s gonna run around that school painting fuck on the walls,” Carl said.</p><p>“Well you could teach her that,” Ian said. “You’re an expert in the field,” Ian smirked. Carl was reminded of “Mrs. Ramirez is Carl’s bitch”.</p><p>Liam came down and hugged Carl. Liam stuck his hand out and said, “Hi, I’m Liam. What’s your name?” </p><p>“Sylvia. Nice to meet you.”</p><p>“You too.”</p><p>Ian turned to Mickey, “Now that’s how you introduce yourself.” </p><p>“Whatever, the kid’s going places where it actually matters,” Mickey said. He sounded slightly proud and Carl found that hilariously endearing. </p><p>Carl glanced nervously at the door. “Lip and Tami are out of town,” Ian said lowly, reading his distress. Well where the hell did they go? He would probably know if he hadn't shouted “I don’t care” a million times last night.</p><p>They sat down and passed around the pasta. Thankfully, someone remembered not to combine the meatballs with the spaghetti so Sylvia could actually eat. </p><p>Franny climbed into Mickey’s lap. Sylvia seemed enthralled with her. Carl thought she was studying elementary or middle school education, so he guessed it made sense. Franny was very attention grabbing.</p><p> Carl realized that Sylvia was reading Mickey’s knuckles as he held Franny. She looked perplexed. If she thought what Carl did a few years ago was ridiculous, wait until Mickey explained how he went from getting fuck u up tattoos to holding a five year old. It was actually kind of funny if Carl thought about it..</p><p>“No,” Mickey said. “You can’t sit in my lap. You got to sit in your chair.” </p><p>She pouted. “I wanted hugs.” </p><p>“After dinner, okay?” Mickey made it so she had no choice but to slide out of his lap. She climbed back in her chair with a huff. “You gotta be a big girl, right? So you can be a warrior?” </p><p>Franny perked up that. “Right!” She pulled out an invisible sword and yelled, “Ahhh!” at Mickey. </p><p>“Okay stop, eat your dinner,” Mickey said laughing.</p><p>Carl nudged Sylvia’s food under the table. “You gonna find out if I’m lying or not?” </p><p>She rolled her eyes. “It’s not exactly kid friendly conversation.” </p><p>“Liam already knows,” Carl shrugged. </p><p>Everyone was looking at them in confusion. “What is this now?” Ian asked.</p><p>“She’s got some questions for you. Doesn’t believe I worked the corner and stuff.” He glanced to the side at Franny. He probably shouldn’t talk about selling drugs in front of her.</p><p>Ian started laughing. “Wow, hard to believe? Okay, we’ll clear that up later.” </p><p>“I’m done,” Franny announced. Carl looked over her. She had spaghetti sauce all over her face and shirt. That was going to be fun. “I want hugs now.” </p><p>“What do you gotta do first?” Mickey prompted.</p><p>She sighed and marched over to the sink with her plate. It was the first plate in, so it clattered loudly as she dropped it in. Luckily, it was plastic. </p><p>“The stool was right there,” Carl said, rolling his eyes. “Go wash your face, you look like a wild animal.” </p><p>She ran into the bathroom and kicked the stool for that sink out so she could stand on it. “Maybe I am a wild animal!” </p><p>“Probably,” Mickey said under his breath. </p><p>Carl rolled his eyes. “I wonder who taught her that,” Carl said teasingly.</p><p>“She was already like that before I came into the picture, and you know it,” Mickey said stabbing his fork in the air, pointing at Carl. </p><p>Franny came out of the bathroom. “I’m done.” She had washed half her face but hadn’t really wiped the sauce off, just splashed a bunch of water and her shirt was completely soaked. </p><p>Ian got up. “Yeah, you missed a few spots..” He herded her back into the bathroom.</p><p>“She’s so cute,” Sylvia said. MIckey, Carl, and Liam all looked at her like she was crazy. </p><p>“Yeah, until she makes you play warrior tea party where she pretends to kill you for an hour,” Liam said. </p><p>Mickey laughed. “Yeah, babysit her and you’ll find out real fast.”</p><p>“She’s a kid and a person. People get annoying,” Sylvia said. “And sure.”</p><p>“Sure what?” Mickey said.</p><p>“Babysit her,” Sylvia said.</p><p>“I was kidding,” Mickey said quickly. “I was fucking kidding.” He looked nervous. Carl wanted to laugh.</p><p>“Okay, well offer still stands,” she said shrugging. </p><p>Mickey sat back and stared at her. He did his xray vision scan and she did hers. It was kind of amusing to watch the two of them do it to each other. Mickey turned to Carl. ‘She’s not an asshole. How did you get this one?” Mickey said teasing.</p><p>“She got me,” Carl said, turning red. </p><p>Sylvia seemed weirdly flattered that this gruff dude with fuck you up written on his fingers but was so good with Franny said she wasn’t an asshole. </p><p>Franny and Ian came back out. Her face was much cleaner. “Go pick out something to watch,” Ian said. She ran into the living room. </p><p>Sylvia leaned closer and whispered to Carl while Mickey and Ian were distracted. “Does that really say what I think it does on his hand?” </p><p>Carl grinned. “Yep.”</p><p>“Congrats, you get to sit through another Barbie movie tonight,” Ian said to Mickey. He kissed the side of Mickey’s cheek. Mickey flipped him off.</p><p>“Oh, I am out,” Liam said looking horrified and running up the stairs.</p><p>“How do you know it will be me?” He said.</p><p>“You told her you’d give her hugs after dinner,” Carl said. “You walked yourself into that one.” </p><p>“I’ll watch it with her,” Sylvia said shrugging. Carl groaned. “Then I have to watch it too.” Sylvia smirked at him. </p><p>Mickey went over to the couch where Franny was sitting. “Can Carl and Sylvia watch too?” </p><p>She looked at Sylvia doubtfully. “Are you going to talk through the whole movie?” She asked Sylvia intensely.</p><p>“Nope, I’ll be nice and quiet,” Sylvia said. </p><p>Franny looked at Carl, and he nodded. She looked back at Sylvia. “Okay,” Fanny approved.</p><p>Sylvia smiled at Carl smugly. “You suck,” he said under his breath.</p><p>“Whoops,” Sylvia responded, playfully knocking his shoulder with hers.</p><p>“And how does Ian get out of this?” Carl asked sitting down. </p><p>“Dishes!” Ian yelled from the kitchen.</p><p>“Shshhhhh,” Franny whispered with her finger over her mouth.</p><p>--</p><p>Carl, Ian, Mickey, and Sylvia sat around the living room. Sylvia had declined a beer so he did too, unsure how to play that one.</p><p>“Okay, so what are you guys doing?” Ian asked.</p><p>“I’m not doing anything. Ask her,” Carl grumbled.</p><p>Sylvia laughed. “I heard some stuff. Apparently he’s infamous around here.”</p><p>Mickey and Ian nodded. “Sorta yeah.” </p><p>Carl rolled his eyes.</p><p>“Okay...so they said he was in a gang, sold drugs, and went to juvie? Had a bunch of girlfriends? Cornrows?” Sylvia said.</p><p>Ian’s eyes twinkled. “Oh yeah, quite the womanizer.” </p><p>“I was not!” Carl yelled. Fucking Ian.</p><p>“Whatever,” Ian said. “Give me a second.”</p><p>They watched Ian scroll through his phone and then handed it to Sylvia. Carl looked over her shoulder at it. It was a picture of him with the cornrows in a huge jacket and chains. He was standing outside the house, trying to look cool. He didn’t remember it being taken.</p><p>Sylvia put her hand over her mouth and glanced at him. Then she started laughing. “Sorry,” she said between laughs. </p><p>“How the fuck do you still have that?” Carl said. Ian had gone through so many phones there was no way he could have kept that.</p><p>“I save things,” Ian said, simply. </p><p>“You had to store that?” Carl said, throwing his hands up.</p><p>“Yeah, gotta preserve history for when your girlfriend comes around. I knew this day would come,” Ian said mockingly.</p><p>“You sound like Frank shut up,” Mickey muttered to him.</p><p>“Okay, so cornrows are real,” Sylvia said.</p><p>“He did go to juvie,” Mickey said. “On a drug charge.” Mickey smirked at him.</p><p>“And how old were you?” Sylvia asked incredulously. “You’re only 19.”</p><p>“Hey! We didn’t do anything for your birthday!” Ian shouted as he realized. </p><p>“Well I wasn’t talking to you, and I don’t care,” Carl said.</p><p>Ian went to argue, but Mickey shoved him in the ribs with his elbow and Ian shut up. Carl gave Mickey a grateful look.</p><p>“I think I was 13,” Carl shrugged.</p><p>“When he got out of juvie he was one of the best dealers around,” Mickey said. Mickey looked proud. “True gangster boy except he looked like a fucking idiot,” Mickey smirked.</p><p>Sylvia looked like she was trying to put all of this information together.  “Okay, so then how old were you when you stopped doing that?” </p><p>Carl tried to run through the timeline of those years but it was hard to keep straight which came first: Ian’s diagnosis, Fiona’s non-wedding, Juvie, Franny, Monica’s death… </p><p>“16,” Carl said. Close enough. </p><p>“How did you get out of it? Why did you?” Sylvia asked. She was studying Carl but it was with curiosity. </p><p>Ian glanced at Carl and Carl gave him a sharp look to keep his mouth shut. “Saw some shit, did some shit, got out,” Carl said uncomfortably. </p><p>Sylvia seemed to get the hint because she didn’t say anything else. But fucking Ian who can never shut up, had to keep talking. “Carl was pretty bad when he was a kid too.” </p><p>Carl smirked at that. “I was. You all let me run wild.” </p><p>“More like we were all kids and Fiona couldn’t keep tracking of everyone all the time because our fucking parents sucked,” Ian pointed out. Carl rolled his eyes. </p><p>“So then what did you do as a kid?” Sylvia asked, interested.</p><p>Carl laughed. “A lot. Set cats on fire, electrocuted action figures, put a goldfish in the microwave once. That was just at home.” </p><p>Sylvia was gaping at him. “You set a cat on fire?” </p><p>Carl nodded. “Not really proud of it now, but yeah my 7 year old ass had access to a blow torch and there were a lot of stray cats.” </p><p>“At school you were fucking awful,” Ian said. “I think they just started letting you pass grades to just get you out as fast as possible.”  Ian laughed.</p><p>“That’s not exactly funny now,” Carl said quietly. Ian shrugged. “Beating kids up and slamming their faces with locker doors, saying crude shit in class, and basically terrorizing everyone with ridiculous shit isn’t funny.”</p><p>“I guess not,” Ian said, trying to not smile. “But the spray paint was funny.”</p><p>Carl smiled a little. “Yeah, that’s still funny. I wrote Mrs. Ramirez is Carl Gallagher’s (with my last name spelled wrong) bitch. With red spray paint. All down the hall.” </p><p>Sylvia didn’t seem to find that funny either while Mickey snickered. “Okay, fine, these things probably happened. I still don’t understand how you ended up like this.” Sylvia gestured at him.</p><p>Mickey just smiled. “He was good all along, just had to grow up a bit.” </p><p>Carl felt himself turn red and then Ian affectionately said, “Sounds like someone else I know,” which made Mickey turn redder. Ian reached over and was kissing him, and kept kissing him.... Carl picked up a toy car off the floor and threw it at them. </p><p>“Ow!” </p><p>“Could you not do that, right here, right now?” Carl asked. MIckey stuck his middle finger up but pullled away. </p><p>Sylvia was watching all of this with her xray eyes. Carl almost didn’t really want to know what she was thinking. She had the scary ability to just know shit that you never even said. </p><p>“Okay great, are we done talking about me now?” Carl was actually pretty annoyed.</p><p>Sylvia looked at him and must have noticed that. Plus Liam came bounding down the steps and plopped a math workbook in Mickey’s lap. “Can you check this?” </p><p>Mickey glanced at it. “You gonna start paying me for fixing your homework?” He smirked. </p><p>“Uh, if you want me to,” Liam said.</p><p>“Jesus kid, I was kidding,” Mickey said, shaking his head and looking at it. “4 and 5 are wrong because you mixed up the signs. Otherwise they’d be right. See? It’s supposed to be addition not multiplication?” </p><p>Liam took the book back and peered at it. “Oh dang. Thanks!” He rushed off to the kitchen table to fix it. They all wondered back into the kitchen too. “So, I got invited to a sleepover party. Can I go?” </p><p>“Where?” Carl asked. </p><p>“Dylan’s.”</p><p>“Oh the big house one,” Carl grinned. “Yeah if you can steal some shit for me.” </p><p>Liam rolled his eyes. “Ha. Ha.” He sighed. “Franny?” </p><p>Ian lightly knocked the back of Liam’s head. “Don’t worry about it. That’s our job.”</p><p>Sylvia was looking kind of sad. She had been fine earlier. </p><p>“You wanna head home?” He whispered to her.</p><p>She nodded. </p><p>She said thanks for dinner and the information. They were quiet for the first half of the walk. Sylvia was just staring ahead of her, not really paying attention. </p><p>He bumped shoulders with her. “What’s wrong? We freak you out too much?” </p><p>She huffed a laugh. “No, it’s not that, don’t worry.” </p><p>Carl held out his hand and she took it. “So then what is it?” He asked gently. </p><p>She shook her head, eyes filled up with tears. She was holding her trembling jaw stiffly. He squeezed her hand. They got to her house and she unlocked the door without letting go of his hand. Carl didn’t think she wanted him to come in. He slipped his hand out. </p><p>“No, can you… can you stay for a minute?” She asked, nervously. He nodded and stepped inside and shut the door. </p><p>He went to the couch. “Hold on a sec,” she mumbled and went into her room. She came back and thrust a picture frame into his hand before sitting next to him. </p><p>It was three little girls on a beach smiling, and two happy looking parents who stood behind them with their arms around the group of them. “This your sisters and parents?” Carl asked, holding the picture like it was a rare artifact that couldn’t be broken. She took it out of his hand, and slammed it on the table facing down. Well then.</p><p>“Yeah,” she said. She pulled her knees up to her chest and scooted so she was in the corner of the couch. “You know… your family is fucking perfect,” she whispered. Tears fell out of her eyes and she swiped them.</p><p>“I...what?” Carl asked, genuinely confused. Any other context he’d be laughing. “My brother punched me in the face the other day…” </p><p>“Yeah but you love each other,” she said. </p><p>Carl didn’t know what to say to that. He said nothing.</p><p>“Watching all of you bicker and take care of Franny, and all the little touches,” she trailed off. “You might not think so, but you’re fucking lucky. A lot of people never had that.”</p><p>Carl understood where this was going and felt his heart break. “I miss my sister. And our bickering and our hugs and...everything. I miss my other sister. When we were all friends. I miss that stupid family in that stupid picture. It wasn’t as loving as yours, but it wasn’t cold like it is now.” She put her head down on her knees and cried.</p><p>She was giving off major don’t touch me vibes so Carl didn’t move. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I’m sorry that tonight brought that up. It wasn’t supposed to be bad. I’m sorry you miss your family.” </p><p>Sylvia looked up. “No it wasn’t bad, Carl. I’m just fucking sad, okay?” Her breath hitched and she put her head down again.</p><p>Carl sat there quietly. She moved over and nudged his arm. He put it around her and she sunk into his side. Carl had an idea. That could completely blow up in his face especially now that she was calming down. </p><p>“Wanna tell me about your sister?” He tried not to sound as awkward as he felt.</p><p>She pulled back and looked at him wide eyed.</p><p>“What?” Her voice broke from crying. She didn’t look upset though. Just confused.</p><p>“You live alone. Your family doesn’t really talk, right? So who do you talk to about your sister?” </p><p>She looked stunned by the question. “I...I don’t know. No one.” </p><p>“Does that bother you?” </p><p>“Sometimes,” she admitted. </p><p>“If you wanna tell me about her. I don’t know.. about her fucking favorite color and slurping her cereal…” Carl trailed off.</p><p>Sylvia grinned a little at the reference and relaxed back into him. “Okay. But you can’t say anything about her okay? No comments.” </p><p>“No comments,” he said sincerely. </p><p>She played with this ring on her finger. Carl hadn’t really noticed it before but it had always been there if he thought about it. It was silver with a purple flower. </p><p>“Uh, okay. Her name...is Claire,” she got stuck on is or was which made Carl feel gutted. She kept going. “Don’t remember if I told you that. She..was 15. She was a really good dancer. Was going to go to this amazing dance school. She was supposed to go a week after the...accident.” She breasted out.</p><p>She pressed closer to Carl and he squeezed her arm. “Her favorite color was purple. And yeah, she fucking slurped her cereal bowl. She was funny and goofy,” Sylvia paused to laugh. “In stores, she’d go to the bra section and put them on over her shirt and stalk around in them. My mom hated it but Lisa and I thought it was hilarious. She’d always be sure to pick the most ridiculous one too. Some hot pink polka dot mess.” </p><p>Carl smiled a bit. She was just staring straight ahead, like she was seeing something else. Something a lot better than what was actually in front of her. Her expression changed though to something pained. “She wasn’t supposed…” She stopped.</p><p>She clamped a hand around her mouth as if she was forcing whatever was coming out back inside. She was clearly done talking. Carl didn’t say anything and let her pull herself together or whatever she was doing. </p><p>He had the urge to take his phone out and text Lip he was sorry. He could still talk to his brother and he hadn't wanted to. Well he did, he wasn’t ready to. Carl also wasn’t the one who should be sorry. He yawned.</p><p>“Shit, sorry. It’s late, you should go to bed,” Sylia said, kind of frantic. </p><p>“It’s okay, it’s okay… I am kinda tired though,” he murmurs. “Are you gonna be okay?” </p><p>“I was okay before you wasn’t I?” Sylvia said back defiantly. Carl looked at her. Her eyes were terrified. It was more like she was trying to convince herself rather than him.</p><p>Carl’s brain supplied “And I’ll be fine after you”. Even though that’s not what she fucking said. <br/>“Okay.” He held up his phone. “Call if you wanna…” She nodded.</p><p>They kissed for a little bit until she pushed on him to actually open the door and go home. They were both smiling softly.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Part Nineteen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Carl and Sylvia have an argument. Ian tries to talk to Carl about Lip.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next day they were at her house, the TV playing in the background, sitting on the couch. She was doing school work and he was playing a game on his phone. Sylvia hadn’t really been doing work for the last few minutes. She’d been whacking her pen against her book and biting her nails, staring at nothing. </p><p>“You good?” Carl asked. </p><p>She threw her pen down. She blurted out harshly, “So when are you going to realize I’m not putting out and leave?” </p><p>“I...what?” Carl asked. He replayed what she said in his head. “Put out?” </p><p>She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean,” she said.</p><p>“I don’t actually,” he said, bewildered.</p><p>“It means have sex, Carl! Sex,” She said exasperated. </p><p>“Ohhh. Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” Carl said. “Wait...what is the question here?” Carl asked sitting up from where he had been slumped down with his feet on the coffee table.</p><p>“Are you really that dumb, Carl?” She spat.</p><p>He flinched. “Guess so,” he said flatly. Well, that hurt. </p><p>“My question is,” Sylvia started. “Why aren’t you leaving because we haven’t had sex?” </p><p>Carl yelled, “So you think I’m dumb?” </p><p>At the same time. </p><p>“I literally don’t understand the question. We haven’t had sex...yeah okay? So? Did you want to and I just couldn’t figure it out because I was too fucking stupid to notice?” He yelled.</p><p>“What? No!” Sylvia said confused now.</p><p>Carl stared at her and shook his head. “Yeah, fuck this,” he bit out. He stood up and grabbed his shoes. </p><p>Carl heard her mutter “shit” under her breath, while he jammed his feet in. He whirled around looking for his phone and wallet. They were on the couch and he grabbed them. He heard her saying something to him but didn’t pay attention. </p><p>“You and my brother can go start a Carl is Stupid Club and find every girl I’ve ever fucked, every drug deal that went wrong, every teacher I’ve had, every boss, and have a great old time!” He said sarcastically and slammed the door. </p><p>-</p><p>The second Carl slammed the door to the house, he went to the refrigerator. He pulled it open and took out a beer, and chugged it. </p><p>“Woah,” Mickey said. “What’s with you?” </p><p>Carl ignored him and reached around to get another beer. Mickey took it out of his hand. </p><p>“Uh-uh, your brother will kill me if I just let you fast track your way to wasted in front of me,” Mickey said. </p><p>“Then I won’t in front of you,” Carl said, irritated. </p><p>“What’s going on?” Mickey said in response. He put the beer back in the fridge and stood in front of the handle so Carl couldn’t open it. </p><p>Carl scowled. “None of your fucking business, just like it’s none of your fucking business how much I drink.” </p><p>The door opened with Ian carrying some grocery bags. “Hey!” He said, oblivious to the tension, and only seeing that Mickey and Carl were there. “So they actually had the brand that--” Ian stopped noticing the two of them scowling at each other, and Mickey blocking the fridge.</p><p>“What’s going on?” Ian asked slowly, dropping the bags on the table. </p><p>“That’s what I’m fucking trying to figure out,” Mickey said. “Junior here comes in and is trying to chug himself to drunk.” Mickey pointed at Carl with his thumb.</p><p>Jesus. This was none of their fucking business. Oh fuck this, he was dumb. Why was he even standing here trying to get beer when he had beer downstairs in the mini fridge. </p><p>“Something happen?” Ian asked Carl, looking concerned. </p><p>Carl pushed himself off the counter and stepped around his brother and his stupid husband, and went downstairs. He locked the door </p><p>“Fuck! He has beer down there,” Carl Mickey swear through the door. The door rattled. “He fucking locked it.”</p><p>“Mick,” Ian loudly, cutting off his tirade. “He’s not a kid anymore. If he wants to be a dumbass, then that’s his problem. Don’t help him when he starts puking it all back up unless he’s like dying obviously.”</p><p>“So you’re fucking okay with this?” Mickey spat.</p><p>“No, I’m not fucking okay with this, you moron!” Ian yelled, exasperated. “I’m saying he’s an adult and you can’t boss him around to do the right thing. Give him space, I’ll go talk to him later. Let’s just start dinner.” </p><p>Their voices moved away from the door and back to a normal volume so he couldn’t easily hear what they were saying. His phone started buzzing in his pocket. It was Sylvia. Goddamn couldn’t anyone leave him alone? He ignored the call and stalked over to his fridge.</p><p>He popped open a beer and stared at it. He didn’t actually want to get drunk. He didn’t like the feeling of it. He slowly sipped the beer while listening to music loudly, trying to zone out.</p><p>From Sylvia 6:33pm</p><p>I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you dumb. I didn’t mean it but that’s not the point. I’m sorry.</p><p>Let me know when/if you’re ready to talk.</p><p>Carl rolled his eyes and turned his phone off. He put down his half-finished beer and climbed on the bed under his blankets. Next thing he knew, Ian was shaking his shoulder. Carl hadn’t meant to fall asleep. </p><p>He sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Fuck. I didn’t mean to do that.” </p><p>Ian walked away and held up a plate with dinner on it. Chicken, potatoes, and green beans. “I brought you dinner.” </p><p>Ian also had a plate. Carl really didn’t feel like eating dinner, let alone with Ian, but he didn’t need to burn any more bridges. Especially if Mickey was mad at him.</p><p>“Thanks,” Carl said and got up to sit at his tiny table with Ian. He looked at the food before smirking. “You got Franny to eat this?” </p><p>“Actually, yeah, because Debbie is home and she wants to be a good girl,” Ian said. “It’s kinda fucked up because I think Franny thinks if she’s good, better, then Debbie will stay all the time.” Ian crinkled his eyebrows at this.</p><p>“That’s fucked,” Carl muttered. “Franny could be a complete angel, and Debbie still wouldn’t be there.” </p><p>“Yeah, but Franny’s five. She doesn’t understand that,” Ian said sadly.</p><p>Carl put his elbow on the table, and put his head in that hand, using the other to eat. “We’re all fucked,” he said morosely.</p><p>“All of us?” Ian asked, giving him a weird look. “Gee, thanks Carl.” </p><p>Carl shrugged.  “Isn’t everyone fucked? Global warming, not being able to buy food, floods, murders, war…” </p><p>“Jesus,” Ian said in horror. “What up with you?” </p><p>“Am I wrong?” Carl countered, ignoring the question.</p><p>“What happened with Sylvia, Carl? You were fine this morning, and during the day with your texts. So what happened?” Ian asked, completely ignoring the question like Carl just did, cutting to the chase. </p><p>Carl blew out a breath. “I don’t fucking know. She asked me some weird question I didn’t understand, something about putting out and breaking up, and I didn’t get it so she said I was dumb and kept hinting at it. So I left. She can have a Carl is stupid club with Lip.” </p><p>Ian’s face lit up with understanding before going back to concerned. “Okay. I don’t know what she was trying to tell you so I’m not even going to try. But what does LIp have to do with Sylvia?”</p><p>Carl didn’t get that question either. “I don’t get the question,” he mumbled. Fuck this. This was hopeless. He was fucking hopeless. </p><p>“Hey,” Ian said sternly. “Don’t shut down on me. I’m asking why you thought of Lip when Sylvia called you dumb,” Ian explained.</p><p>“Uh, because Lip thinks I’m stupid and he hates me now,” Carl said. Wasn’t that fucking obvious? “And she thinks I’m stupid and I’m doing something wrong that I don’t understand. So there, look, more stupid.” </p><p>“So you’ve got two people you really respect and want them to like you because you like them, telling you you’re dumb. And that hurts,” Ian summarized. </p><p>“Yeah?” Carl said. “And?” </p><p>“Look, I don’t know about Sylvia. But Lip doesn’t hate you. He’s jealous of you and mad at himself,” Ian said leaning forward so he made eye contact with Carl. </p><p>Carl started laughing. “Who the fuck would be jealous of me? Why would he be?” </p><p>“Sometimes Lip has this picture of who people are set in his head. And when it doesn’t match anymore, it bothers him,” Ian explained. </p><p>“Are you trying to make me feel fucking stupid?” Carl growled.</p><p>“No! Shut the fuck up and listen,” Ian said, rolling his eyes. </p><p>“So Lip’s got this image of you as a kid. He does this to me too but that’s not the point. This is a fact and I’m not agreeing, okay?” Ian paused so he was sure Carl heard him. “You had the principal of your school tell us you needed a lobotomy. You blew shit up. You bullied people. You didn’t do well in school. So by this version of you at like fucking 10 years old, you should be the screw up. That’s where you were supposed to head.” </p><p>“Glad everyone thought I was a screw up,” mumbled.</p><p>“I didn’t. Debbie didn’t. Fiona and Lip are just dumb sometimes,” Ian said emphatically.</p><p>Carl crossed his arms over his chest.</p><p>“Nope!” Ian yelled. Ian kicked Carl’s foot under the table.  “Don’t shut down. Listen to me.” </p><p>“I am,” Carl groused and pushed his chair backwards. He sounded and felt like an annoyed teenager mad at their parents. </p><p>“So let’s take Lip’s image of what he was supposed to be. What everyone thought he would be. People assumed you’d be the screw up. People assumed he would be the genius child that gets out of the ghetto. He was going to be the smartest, with the best job, and helping us out,” Ian layed out. “That’s what he thought he was going to be and he could have been it too. But he fucked it up. Reasons aside, the point is and the end result is, he fucked it up. He lost that. That kills him.” </p><p>Carl furrowed his eyebrows. “I thought you said addiction is a disease.”</p><p>“It is. Regardless of why school got fucked up for him, it got fucked up. Doesn’t really matter how in the end,” Ian explained.</p><p>“That’s dumb,” Carl said, pushing his food around on his plate.</p><p>“That’s how Lip sees it,” Ian shrugged.</p><p>“I still don’t get why you think he’s jealous,” Carl huffed.</p><p>“You’re not what everyone imagined you to be. He’s not what everyone imagined him to be. You’re what he is supposed to be, according to him,” Ian theorized. </p><p>“Did Mickey hit you on the head with the baseball bat lately? I’m not anything close to what he is or could have been,” Carl said bewildered. </p><p>“Yeah, you  fucking are,” Ian insisted. “ Lip may or not be the smartest. Who cares? You’re the one with a damn good, respected job. You’re the one who has opportunities likely coming down the line. You’re the one who helps out. You have the prestige and responsibility that he fucking wanted. And he doesn’t fucking have it.”</p><p>Carl was kind of dumbfounded. So he just said nothing. </p><p>“Whether or not Lip realizes it or not, he’s jealous. He’s mad at himself for not being what he had imagined himself to be, and what other people thought he would be too. And here you are, the supposed screw up, who is actually the least fucked up. He kind of resents you. I don’t think he realizes it,” Ian finished thoughtfully. </p><p>“And that makes it better?” Carl asked incredulously. “That makes it okay to punch me in the face? Because I’ve got a better job or some bullshit?” </p><p>“No,” Ian said tiredly. “I’m just offering an explanation. I’m not condoning it.” </p><p>“Okay well all you’ve done is prove he hates me. He’s jealous and resents me. He hates me,” Carl concluded. </p><p>Ian sighed. “He hates himself, not you.” </p><p>Carl looked at Ian skeptically. </p><p>“I can’t make you see that,” Ian said. “So I guess you’ll just have to think about it.” </p><p>Carl changed the subject. “Is Mickey mad at me?” </p><p>“What? No,” Ian said confused at first. “He’s worried but not mad.”</p><p>“That’s kind of worse,” Carl mumbled.</p><p>Ian started laughing. “You’re not wrong.” He stood up and ruffled Carl’s hair. “You coming up? Franny’s been asking where you are. She wants to watch a movie.”</p><p>“You’re just saying that to get me to come upstairs and suffer through another fucking Barbie movie,” Carl said, raising his eyebrows. </p><p>“I’m not, she’s actually been asking where you are. Guess you’ll have to come up and find out,” Ian said grabbing their plates. “Also, I think she chose something that is not a Barbie movie this time.”</p><p>--</p><p>Ian wasn’t lying. Carl had never heard his name shrieked so loudly in his life, and honestly didn’t want to hear it like that again. But he wasn’t going to deny that it felt nice that Franny was so excited to see him.</p><p>His head is swimming by the time he goes to bed. Too much shit happened today. Sylvia and whatever the fuck that was, Ian’s ridiculous theory, feeling like everything is fucked. It took him a while to fall asleep.</p><p>He had a dream with Debbie drunk driving into their backyard, knocking over the fence. Lip gets out of the car and starts shouting about how stupid they all are. Ian gets out with the paintball gun and shoots yellow all over the yard, until he’s not and he’s shooting real bullets. Ian shoots himself in the head. Lip picks up the gun, and does the same. Then Debbie. Carl is just left there holding Franny, but she disappears from his arms. So it’s just him and voices swirling around.</p><p>
  <i>“I’m raising a psychopath here…”</i>
</p><p>
  <i></i>
</p><p>
  <i></i>
</p><p>
  <i>“You’re too stupid to be a cop…”</i>
</p><p><i>“You really can’t read that? Words don’t move on the page, stop playing…”</i> </p><p>
  <i>“You think you’ll make something of yourself here? Thought Juvie was behind you? You’re on a fast track to a life time in prison, Gallagher. Don’t make society deal with your stupid ass.”</i>
</p><p><i>“Are you really that dumb, Carl?”</i> </p><p>
 <i>Are you?”</i>
</p><p>-</p><p>Carl watched Sylvia walk up to the Gallagher house from the front step. She pushed the gate open and he walked to the backyard. She followed him. He leaned against the old red van. Sylvia kept almost the whole yard’s distance between them with her hands stuffed in her pockets.</p><p>They stared at each other. She was doing her xray vision thing and looked concerned. Carl knew he looked like shit. His fading black eye, his big bags under his eyes, generally looking not great. He’d woken up from the worst of all of his nightmares a few days ago, screaming so hard his throat hurt. Everyone had crashed down the stairs to check on him since he apparently sounded like he was being attacked. He told his family nothing other than it was a bad dream, he was fine, go to bed. He decided not to sleep the next night. He didn’t want to see that again. He’d barely slept last night. His body finally gave out and his alarm went off, and it was time for work.</p><p>“Are you uh, okay?” She asked. She crunched the last of melting snow under her foot. He just kind of tilted his head at her and crossed his arms. </p><p>No, he wasn’t fucking okay. Why was she here if she was going to point that out? </p><p>“I’m sorry,” she said. “I fucked up. I was trying to initiate a conversation about my own insecurity but I did it too emotionally. I’m not saying that as an excuse. It’s just an explanation. I’m sorry I called you dumb. I didn’t realize it was one of those… things, like everyone has things that people could say that just really get to you… which doesn’t matter if it is or isn’t one of those things, because it was still fucked up…” She rambled, twisting her fingers in her hands. “You’re not dumb. I don’t think you’re dumb. Dumb people don’t grow up and change to be better.” </p><p>Carl kicked the last chunks of ice from the winter between his feet. He looked up at her and swallowed hard. “Yeah, well that fucking hurt.” </p><p>She took a step back like she’d been pushed, but nodded. “I know. I’m sorry.”</p><p>He nodded. He shoved his hands in his pockets and squinted in the sun. Carl watched Sylvia fidget nervously. He wasn’t purposely trying to make her grovel, he just didn’t know what to say or do. </p><p>Sylvia took a few steps forward. “I don’t really know what else I can do other than say I’m sorry and won’t do it again. But I don’t know if you want to break up, or…” </p><p>“I don’t want to break up,” Carl said faster than his mind processed the words. He walked to her until there was only a foot or so of space between them. “I mean, it still hurts but it’s okay. You can buy me ice cream if you want though,” he grinned teasingly. </p><p>She grabbed his hand and started pulling him down the sidewalk. “Let’s go then.” </p><p>He stopped. “Wait, what were you trying to talk to me about before?” </p><p>Sylvia’s face shuttered. “Uh, it’s better if we do that later. It’s not a public conversation, and we’re getting ice cream.” She smiled at him again, and went back to leading him down the street, and then abruptly stopped. He bumped into her.</p><p>“Hey,” Carl said in surprise. </p><p>She grabbed his other hand and pulled him closer. She looked at his face, before hugging him. They were getting better at knowing when they didn’t have to verbally ask anymore. She pulled back and kissed him until Carl was dazed. She let go of him completely and walked in front of him. He hurried to catch up.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Part Twenty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Carl and Sylvia work it out and have some fun. Lip talks to Carl who isn't as interested in the conversation.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I rewrote this so many times and I still don't like it. And I just want to move on, so here it is.<br/>I also realized I've given no explanation of where Frank is... and I don't have one... he's just not there lol.</p><p>Thanks for reading!</p><p>**Carl vomits because I make him do that a lot**</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Carl, that’s disgusting,” Sylvia said wrinkling her nose.</p><p>Apparently, ice cream is now frozen yogurt. It was pretty cool, getting to control how many flavors you got. Carl was putting in a lot of gummy bears.</p><p>“What’s wrong with gummy bears?” Carl asked.</p><p>“I don’t know. It’s like gross after a few. Plus those have gelatin in them,” Sylvia explained, turning away from Carl’s ice cream. “I’m not buying you that,” she said, teasing.</p><p>“I can buy my own ice cream if you the gummy bears are that offensive,” Carl said grinning.</p><p>“Oh my god, you’re holding up the line. Let’s go,” Sylvia said, grabbing his hand and pulling him to the check out. They paid and sat at a table near the window.</p><p>“What’s gelatin?” Carl asked, picking gummy bears up with a spoon, and putting them in his mouth.</p><p>“Ground up animal bones. It’s used as an adhesive in food,” Sylvia explained.</p><p>He paused and looked at his spoon, and then shrugged. She rolled her eyes.<br/>“I thought this was you making it up to me, so I guess you’re going to have to deal with the gummy bears,” Carl said, throwing one at her. She threw it back.</p><p>“You know, I can probably catch these in my mouth.” Carl handed her a gummy bear.</p><p>“I am not doing that with you, right here.” She rolled her eyes and gave him the gummy bear back.</p><p>“Oh so, later, when we’re not here?” Carl asked, smirking.</p><p>She sighed dramatically. “I guess. I used to be pretty good at that too. My sister and I...” She trailed off. It was like she hadn’t realized she was going to talk about her sister. “My sister and I used to play a game of who could catch the most. Usually M&amp;Ms,” she finished, in a mostly normal voice.</p><p>Carl wasn’t sure if he was supposed to acknowledge the moment she got upset, or move the conversation on. But with her sister in it or taking her sister out? She seemed fine, even if it was a bit of forced determination for it to just be part of a normal conversation.</p><p>“Who won the most?” Carl settled on asking.</p><p>She laughed a little. “She did. And if you’re so fucking cocky about it, I guess we’ll have to see who can catch the most. Me or you.”</p><p>That seemed like it went okay. She answered the question and then moved the conversation elsewhere.<br/>“It’s definitely me,” Carl said scraping the last of his ice cream and gummy bears.</p><p>She got up and threw her cup out. “I don’t know. Usually when men are that cocky about something they’re usually really bad at whatever it is.” She smirked.</p><p>“What?” Carl said laughing. “Says who?”</p><p>“Experience,” she said, and opened the door, waiting for him to walk out.</p><p>“Let’s go get candy then,” Carl said.</p><p>“No gummy bears,” Sylvia said.</p><p>“What about gummy worms?”</p><p>“No. No gummy anything.” She cringed.</p><p>A streetlight flicked on above them, and Carl saw shapes floating around in his peripheral vision. He turned and looked. “He knew that there wasn’t actually anything there, but he always hoped anyway. He ignored it. They were having fun. He wasn’t going to ruin it just because he had some fucking fake lights in his vision, auras or whatever the fuck.<br/>They entered a drug store. Fuck it happened again under the lights of the store. Carl followed Sylvia to the candy aisle.</p><p>“Okay, so Skittles or M&amp;Ms?” She said looking at the candy selection.</p><p>Fuck he was dizzy, and he was like an hour away from getting stabbed in the head for hours. He held onto the shelf. “Aren’t Skittles kind of like gummies?”</p><p>She considered that. “Kind of yeah. We’ll use M&amp;Ms.” She grabbed M&amp;Ms. He snatched them out of her hands and got a water. He held one up, and she nodded. So he got another.<br/>They left the store. He stumbled as circles danced in front of his eyes, magnified by the store light. He grabbed the wall.</p><p>“Woah,” Sylvia exclaimed. “Are you okay?”</p><p>He fought the urge to squeeze his eyes shut. “Yeah,” he said shortly.</p><p>She looked at him skeptically. “Drink some of your water.”</p><p>He cracked the bottle open, and she slipped the plastic bag with their stuff off his arm. “I can fucking hold that,” Carl said, annoyed.</p><p>“Congrats, so can I,” she said sarcastically. They kept walking back. She didn’t comment on how he kept getting slower. Until he tripped over his own fucking feet in a wave of dizziness. She pulled him and set him on the steps of someone’s house.</p><p>“I don’t know why you bother trying to hide it when it’s just going to get worse,” Sylvia said, exasperated. </p><p>Carl didn’t know either. It just felt like he should try to hide it. It would be weird not to. </p><p>“You have your meds with you?” She asked, standing above him.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Your migraine meds?” She clarified.</p><p>“Oh, no. Why would I?” He squinted up at her.</p><p>She rolled her eyes. “Uh for when this happens.” She held up a bottle of ibuprofen and he nodded. She placed two in his hand.</p><p>“They don’t do shit anyway,” Carl muttered, taking the pills she handed him.<br/>“Then go get new ones,” Sylvia said like it was fucking obvious. </p><p>He rolled his eyes. ‘The free clinic can’t do shit with this. Not paying a huge bill for an actual doctor.” </p><p>“I’m pretty sure you get health insurance with your job.” She crossed her arms.</p><p>“Oh. Right. Forgot,” Carl said. He didn’t think he was ever going to get used to this concept of seeing an actual doctor and not waiting until it was a crisis.</p><p>“Great,” Sylvia said brightly. “You can schedule something tomorrow.” She held out her hands. He grabbed them and let her pull him up. She wrapped an arm around his waist, and guided his arm to do the same on hers. They stumbled back to the house.</p><p>When they got there, he froze.</p><p>“Woah, what?” Sylvia said almost tripping over his foot. She followed his gaze to a little red car parked in front. </p><p>“Tami’s car. Lip’s in there,” Carl said quietly. </p><p>She nudged his back with their arms still around each other’s waists. “You don’t have to deal with him right now. But your meds are in there. You’re not going to make it much further. You gotta go in.” </p><p>Fuck she was right but she didn’t want her to be. He was not up for another making amends conversation today, especially while his head decided to murder him slowly.</p><p>“I’ll go in with you,” she stated and nudged him again.</p><p> He reluctantly started walking. She let go when they got in the house. He held onto the couch and the wall until he got to the kitchen where his meds were. </p><p>“Hey!” Ian said, and paused. “Are you drunk?”</p><p>“No, asshole,” Carl bit out. He held up his meds and shook them. He regretted that. It was loud in his ear. He pulled out the doses and swallowed them. He felt Sylvia come up behind him. He squinted at her and realized she was looking at the table.</p><p>“Oh. Right,” He gripped the counter with one hand and used the other to point to everyone. “Sylvia. Lip. Tami. Freddie.” That wasn’t the most elegant introduction but a crude one was probably better than none.</p><p>“Carl’s girlfriend,” Ian supplemented. Carl rolled his eyes.</p><p>Carl and Lip’s eyes connected and they stared at each other. Carl was overwhelmed. Lip looked sad and a bunch of other things his brain couldn’t place since it was slowly murdering him. He walked over to the basement door and opened it. He felt Sylvia grab his arm again. He tried to shake her off.</p><p>She snorted. “Nah-uh, you’re gonna fall. Then you’ll have even bigger problems with your head.” </p><p>They made it down the stairs without falling. She backed him up onto his bed. He flopped on impact. He threw his shoes and jacket on the floor. </p><p>“Being taller really worked out there,” Sylvia smirked. “I bet it was all the gummy bears.”</p><p>Carl held up his middle finger. She laughed.<br/>“Okay, I gotta go. I have a lesson plan to write. Feel better. See ya later,” she patted the top of his head laughing to herself. He scrunched his nose but smiled. </p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>Carl came up to the kitchen in sunglasses the next morning. Ian raised his eyebrows at him. “Still that bad?” </p><p>Carl nodded tiredly. He ate a sleeve of crackers and drank a coke. Ian raised his eyebrows at that too. “Wow, healthy.”</p><p>Carl ignored him. He glanced at the calendar on the bulletin board with all of the Franny stuff worked out. He was not getting up to look at it. “What’s up with Franny today?” </p><p>“Doctor’s appointment. Lip is supposed to take her,” Ian stated. He glanced at Carl nervously. “Lip’s not sure you’ll let him take her though,” Ian said awkwardly.</p><p>Carl snorted. “I’m the police, but not of him. If he’s not fucking drunk then yeah, why wouldn’t I let him take her?” </p><p>Ian shrugged but gave him a weird look, like Ian wasn’t willing to open that can of worms.“I’ll let him know.” </p><p>Mickey came down the stairs with his black hair wet. He looked at Carl and his breakfast. “Wow, Piggy.” Mickey rummaged around for the poptarts. “You going to work?” </p><p>“Why wouldn’t I be?” Carl said back. He’d finished the whole cracker sleeve. Sucks to be whoever wanted that. </p><p>“Why wouldn’t I be?” Mickey repeated, rubbing his eyebrow. “Because you’re obviously still fucking sick, dumbass.” </p><p>“I called out too much last month. Can’t do that this month,” Carl replied. </p><p>“Your boss say that?” Mickey asked with his arms crossed. “You couldn’t even walk straight last night.”</p><p>“No, but it’s kind of implied,” Carl said, rolling his eyes. “And I can walk just fine now.”</p><p>MIckey went to open his mouth again but Ian nudged him with his elbow. Carl swore he heard Ian whisper, “He’s not a kid anymore,” into Mickey’s ear. Mickey looked grumpy but started pouring orange juice silently. Ian kissed him on the cheek and ruffled his head. His grumpy look lessened.</p><p>Carl got in the car and started it. He’d driven about five feet before he realized he couldn’t really see beyond what was directly in front of him. Things were floating in and out of his vision. Fuck. He couldn’t drive like this. He’d fucking hit someone. His mind flashed to Sylvia’s sister and he had to shake himself from going further with that thought. He put the car back, and got out of the car.</p><p>Shit he was nauseous. And he was not making it back inside. Carl leaned over and threw up on the ground. He wiped his mouth and looked at the puddle of vomit. It was right next to one of the wheel’s of the ambulance, and there was a bit splashed on it. Whoops. </p><p>He stumbled back through the door. Liam, Franny, Ian, and Mickey all turned to look at him. Great. He collapsed on the couch and covered his head, like that would do anything. “What’s wrong with Uncle Carl?” Franny asked from the kitchen. </p><p>He could feel all of them staring at him. “He’s sick,” Mickey said. “You gotta be real quiet until we get outside. Okay?” </p><p>Carl drifted in and out while they finished getting ready, and then left. He pulled out his phone. He had to fucking call out. He was going to get fucking fired. He called and was told he wasn’t fired. Yeah, not yet. How many times can you get sick? Why did he suddenly have this problem after he turned 18 last year? What was that like a rule no one told him? When you become an adult your body has to torture you in some way all the time. Now he’d just be anxious all day. He’d better off puking at the station. </p><p>His phone lit up in his hand. </p><p> </p><p>From Sylvia 9:33am</p><p>Feel better?</p><p> </p><p>To Sylvia 9:34am</p><p>No</p><p>He pulled the blanket off the couch. He really hoped someone had washed this since the last time Frank peed all over it. Carl sniffed it cautiously. Seemed okay. He really wanted to go in his own bed but he was too tired to move.  </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>He woke up to someone running their fingers through his hair. He made his eyes slits and then opened them in shock. It was Lip, sitting on the coffee table and crying. </p><p>“The fuck?” Carl slurred. </p><p>“Hi,” Lip said nervously.</p><p>“Can’t talk right now,” Carl said, all the words running together. <br/>“I know, I’m just checking on you,” Lip said softly. “And I do want to say I’m sorry right now.” </p><p>Carl blinked at him. “Okay.” He wasn’t even trying to be stand offish, that was all his brain would supply him. He felt like he was going to cry but he was not letting that happen. His head could not handle that. </p><p>Lip smiled softly. “Go back to sleep.” He went back to petting Carl’s head, which was a bold move considering things were pretty precarious between them right now. But Carl didn’t give a fuck. It made things hurt slightly less. </p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>Something feathery and pointy was poking him all over. He opened his eyes to slits and saw the pink shirt with white heart on it. Franny. She brought the object into view, and it was her magic wand. Rhinestone stars and pink feathers. He closed his eyes again. He was not dealing with that. </p><p>“Franny what are you doing?” Ian’s voice came from the kitchen. It got closer. “Aw, stop poking him, Fran.” </p><p>“I’m doing magic on him,” Franny explained. “So he’s not sick anymore.”</p><p>Ian sighed. “Okay but you have to do it from the kitchen. I told you to leave him alone so he can sleep. Come on.” </p><p>Why the fuck was he sleeping on the couch anyway? What time was it? He’d collapsed on it after he came back from his failed attempt to go to work. He’d woken up at some point to Lip staring at him like he was dying. Fuck. Now he was awake again. He really wished he was in his own bed so he could wake up without at least two other people staring at him and breathing down his neck about it. </p><p>He didn’t have a stabbing sensation behind his eyes, but his eyes were still closed. Getting up and moving around was really the deciding factor. A door opened and closed. Franny screamed, “Freddie!” </p><p>“Franny, shush,” Ian said. She made the “shh” noise back at him. </p><p>“Hey,” Lip, Tami, and Ian said to each other. </p><p>“Where’s Carl?” Lip asked.<br/>Carl felt someone come down the steps and walk by him. </p><p>“Still asleep on the couch,” he heard Mickey say. “You here to punch him in the face again?” </p><p>Now that Carl thought about it, Mickey hadn’t been in the room last night when Lip was, so maybe this was the first time he’d seen Lip since the incident.</p><p>“Mick!” Ian exclaimed, annoyed. </p><p>“What? It’s a fair question,” Mickey defended. “Because Phillip here can just leave while he’s ahead then.” </p><p>“What are you Carl’s guard dog now?” Lip said, laughing incredulously. </p><p>“Yeah. Woof, woof, bitch,” Mickey replied.</p><p>Carl bit his cheek to keep from laughing. </p><p>“Enough!” Ian said as if he were yelling, but trying to keep quiet. “You bring the salad stuff, or what?” The kitchen descended into chaotic conversation and Carl stopped listening. <br/>Someone sat at the coffee table in front of him, and nudged him. </p><p>“I know you’re awake, dumbass,” Mickey smirked, whispering lowly. Carl opened his eyes. “You and Ian do the same fucking thing when you try to fake sleep,” Mickey added. Carl rolled his eyes. “Come on,” Mickey said. “Get up. You gotta eat something.” Mickey read Carl’s face. “Don’t fucking worry about Lip. Let’s go, up.” </p><p>Carl huffed and held his hands out. Mickey hauled him to sit up. The room spun. Carl grabbed his head and squeezed his eyes. “Dizzy,” he groaned.</p><p>“Yeah because you haven’t eaten anything other than a soda and fucking crackers,” Mickey replied. </p><p>“Hey,” Ian said standing next to Mickey. “You feeling better?”</p><p>“I did until Mickey made me fucking sit up and made the world spin,” Carl groused.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, I’m the fucking worst,” Mickey said, rolling his eyes.</p><p>Ian left and came back with a glass of orange juice. “Drink that, wait a few minutes, and get up.” </p><p>“You’re both so fucking bossy,” Carl huffed. He wanted to go back to sleep. He was cranky as fuck. He took the glass and drank it. He handed it back to Ian. “Happy?”</p><p>“Yep,” Ian said cheerily and walked away. Mickey snorted and patted Carl’s knee. Carl turned his head. Liam, Franny, Tami, Lip, and even fucking Freddie were all looking at him. He groaned and shoved a pillow in his face. Great. Now he felt like he needed to puke from chugging the orange juice. Carl contemplated just walking over to Ian and barfing on him. </p><p>Mickey patted his knee again. “Alright, Piggy. Get up.” He grabbed Carl’s arms and started to haul him up. </p><p>Carl’s stomach rolled. “Fuck, stop. Stop.” He tried to pull his arms out of Mickey’s grasp.</p><p>“Stop being a little bitch,” Mickey taunted him.</p><p>“Stop or get fucking puked on,” Carl yelled in irritation. MIckey lowered him back down, and a plastic bag was shoved under his chin. He grabbed the bag and gulped. Everyone was staring at him. He could feel it. It made his stomach churn more with anxiety. </p><p>“Stop fucking looking at me!” Carl yelled. He put his head between his knees and breathed slowly for a few minutes. He brought his head back up. No one was looking at him. Good. He stood up experimentally, and felt himself tilt a little but not get nauseous. Mickey grabbed his arm.</p><p>“You good?” Mickey asked.</p><p>Carl nodded and let Mickey lead him to the table, where he plopped down ungracefully into a chair next to Liam.  While eating made Carl feel a lot better, the dinner was awkward. Liam and Ian did their best to carry on conversation until Lip started bawling at the table. Then it was really fucking awkward. </p><p>Ian took Lip outside, and they sat there fucking awkwardly. </p><p>“Jesus,” Mickey muttered, and shook his head. </p><p>Carl decided he couldn’t eat anymore and wrapped the rest of the plate for later. If it was even still there. Mickey denied it but Carl was 95% it was Mickey always swiping everyone’s leftovers. Carl had to write CARL’S TOUCH AND YOU DIE on anything related to his lunch. His lunch was still in the fridge from this morning. He’d forgotten about it. He looked down. He was still in his fucking uniform  Christ. </p><p>Tami had looked like she’d wanted Carl to wait for Lip to come back in but he needed to change. They could find him. Not like there were many places to go in this house. He went downstairs to get new clothes, and showered. Carl felt a lot more human after that. No one had tried to find him yet so he stayed in the basement checking his phone.<br/>Oh yeah. He’d just ignored Sylvia earlier and went to sleep. </p><p>From Sylvia 9:38am </p><p>Sorry :/</p><p> </p><p>From Sylvia 4:05pm</p><p>You die? *skull emoji* </p><p> </p><p>To Sylvia 6:03pm</p><p>Yeah I died and then rose from the dead<br/>Either Jesus or a zombie now.</p><p> </p><p>From Sylvia 6:05pm</p><p>Ha. Ha. Ha.<br/>Feel any better? </p><p> </p><p>To Sylvia 6:08pm</p><p>Yeah. How are you?</p><p> </p><p>From Sylvia 6:10pm</p><p>Fine. Thanks.</p><p> </p><p>To Sylvia 6:11pm</p><p>You’ve never responded with fucking fine.<br/>What’s wrong? </p><p> </p><p>From Sylvia 6:13pm</p><p>I have too!<br/>You’re never just like… fine? </p><p> </p><p>To Sylvia 6:15pm</p><p>Yeah. But I don’t think you are.<br/>Fuck my brother wants to talk to me, sorry.<br/>Tell me what’s wrong and I’ll read it later.</p><p> </p><p>From Sylvia 6:16pm</p><p>Sure.</p><p> </p><p>Carl rolled his eyes. She’s always complained about him not talking, when she should look at herself. There was knocking on the door again. Carl sighed. He put his phone down.</p><p>“Yeah? Come down,” He yelled.</p><p>Lip came down the steps like a kicked puppy, which was funny since Carl hadn’t done any of the kicking here. He’d told Lip earlier he wasn’t mad, but maybe he still was just a bit. Carl bit back saying “are you okay?” because Lip’s eyes were bloodshot and puffy and not from drinking. </p><p>“Hey,” Lip said, rubbing the back of his neck. </p><p>“Hi,” Carl replied, and gestured for him to sit anywhere. </p><p>Lip sat on the bottom of the bed. Carl was at the top. He pulled his knees to his chest. </p><p>“Feeling better?” Lip said.</p><p>“Yeah, thanks,” Carl said.</p><p>Lip nodded and started playing with a rubber band that was around his wrist. “I’m sorry... that was fucked up. And I just… I’m sorry,” Lip said. He tried to maintain eye contact with Carl but his eyes kept flitting back to the floor. </p><p>Carl bit his lip. “Was that really just a one time thing? When you drank the six pack?” </p><p>Lip nodded. “Yeah, that was the only time. I didn’t do it again. I swear.” </p><p>Carl nodded. If Lip was lying to him now, did it even fucking matter? “Why?” </p><p>“Did I drink?” Lip clarified.</p><p>“Yeah,” Carl said. </p><p>“I don’t know. A lot of shit happened this month. I missed a lot of work so we’re not really making ends meet at the moment. I just thought I’d get some inspiration on what the hell to do or at least numb it if I drank,” Lip said quietly.</p><p>Carl felt guilty. He knew for a fact that Lip had missed work when he was sick. This was his fault.</p><p>“Did it work?” Carl asked.</p><p>Lip laughed derisively. “Oh yeah, I had the brilliant idea to steal some shit from work and sell it.” </p><p>Carl’s mouth fell open. “Fuck Lip.” </p><p>“Yeah, so Brad was kind of pissed at me for a while,” Lip said. “I think he still is. He won’t really talk to me, even though I never sold any of the stuff. I gave it back.”<br/>Fuck. Brad was Lip’s sponsor. Aren’t they supposed to talk?</p><p>“You haven’t talked to Brad to work it out?” Carl asked, confused. </p><p>Lip shrugged. “I did but he doesn’t trust me now. Things were getting better but then Debbie outed me… I hadn’t told Brad either that I got that great idea from drinking. Until the other day. So we’re not talking.”</p><p>“I thought he was your sponsor. He has to talk to you,” Carl said.</p><p>“He doesn’t. And he will, he just said he needs some time to work out how he feels about it before talking to me,” Lip said, sighing. “Which is fair. Even if I don’t like it.” </p><p>Carl didn’t say anything. Was Lip going to acknowledge his shitty text conversation that was about the same thing?</p><p>“Which, I uh,” Lip paused and cleared his throat, “was a complete dick when you tried to do the same thing. I’m sorry.”</p><p>Carl suddenly felt really tired. He tilted his head back on the wall. They were silent for a while. Carl was scared to ask this question, but it had been eating him alive all week. “Why?” He said, twisting his hands in a blanket.</p><p>“Why what?” Lip asked.</p><p>“Did you punch me,” Carl said, tonelessly. Why what? What the fuck? He didn’t want to do this anymore he just wanted to be like okay it’s fine and move on. He couldn’t sit through this conversation anymore. HIs skin was crawling. </p><p>Lip started talking, but Carl talked desperately over him. “You know what? I don’t care. It’s fine. Okay? We’re fine.”</p><p>He grabbed his hair and squeezed his eyes shut. He could feel Lip and his shocked eyes looking at him. </p><p>“Carl,” Lip said slowly. He moved closer down the bed. Carl panicked and scrambled out of it. He didn’t want to be anywhere near Lip anymore and his attempt to keep the conversation going. He tripped on a shoe, and fell backward.</p><p>“Jesus,” Lip muttered, coming around to the other side of the bed to help Carl up. As soon as he was back on his feet, Carl backed up again.</p><p>He held his hands up again, pacing. “We’re fine, okay? We don’t need to talk anymore.” He couldn’t breathe in there anymore. He stuffed his feet in his sneakers on the side of the steps, and ran up them. Ian said his name, but he pushed the door open and ran out into the backyard.</p><p>Carl put his hands on his knees. Lip and Ian were at the side door talking. The soccer ball was by the door. He walked over and picked it up, and threw it at the fence so it shook. Ian and Lip stepped outside as he kicked it hard from across the yard so it hit the van. They just stood there watching. He ignored them. Carl aimed at the side of the house, and threw it. It landed with a loud smack. He went to go get it but Ian had scooped it up first. </p><p>Carl breathed heavily, and silently held his hands out. </p><p>Ian shook his head. “You’re gonna break a window.” </p><p>Carl huffed. “I won’t hit the house again.” </p><p>“You gonna finish talking to Lip?” Ian asked, still not giving the ball back.</p><p>“We are done. We are fine,” Carl grit out. “Give me the fucking ball.” </p><p>“You can’t just decide things are fine because you don’t want to deal with them anymore,” Ian said slowly, looking Carl dead in the eye. </p><p>Carl looked away and almost wanted to just grab the ball out of Ian’s hands. He kicked a plastic chair so it fell over instead. </p><p>“Carl,” Ian started, sounding frustrated.</p><p>“What if I CAN’T deal with them? Not want, CAN’T!” Carl screamed. </p><p>Ian’s face softened, and he walked closer to Carl. “How do you know you can’t if you didn’t even finish the conversation?” </p><p>“I just fucking know,” Carl said, crossing his arms. Tears pricked his eyes. He blinked them back.</p><p>Ian sighed. He wasn’t getting anywhere. He threw the ball back to Carl. “Don’t hit the house again.” </p><p>The ball fell at Carl’s feet. He picked it up and watched Ian motion to LIp come over and sit on the steps. Carl rolled his eyes. Couldn’t they just fucking going inside? He’s not five. Lip met Ian at the steps. Ian just shook his head. “Just leave him for a bit,” he said sounding defeated. Ian wrapped his arm around Lip’s shoulder as they sat on the step. <br/>But they weren’t leaving him be since they were right fucking there. Carl huffed and resumed throwing and kicking the ball at the fence, stuff in the yard, and the van. He’d been at it for a while when he slipped in the muddy grass. It never stopped fucking raining long enough for the ground to harden. He landed with his right ankle underneath him. Carl pulled it out and rolled it. </p><p>Lip yelled, “Shit!” And hurried over, crouching next to Carl.</p><p>It was fine. He hadn’t twisted it. Thank fuck. </p><p>“Did you hurt it?” Lip asked anxiously. </p><p>Carl blinked and moved his ankle around again without any pain. “No,” he said, sounding confused. “Somehow, it’s fine.” He looked up and met Lip’s eyes. They looked at each other intensely. Carl’s eyes started to water again. He looked away.</p><p>Ian had been watching on the side, and came over and pulled Carl up. Then he put his hand on Carl’s shoulders. “It’s not fair to him or you, if you don’t let him finish talking,” Ian said quietly. </p><p>Carl stared at their shoes. Ian shook his shoulders so Carl looked up. “You know, I’m right,” Ian said, smirking. </p><p>Carl huffed and turned around to Lip. “Why did you fucking hit me?” Carl yelled in Lip’s face. “I didn’t fucking do anything to you.” Carl gulped and tried not to cry but it didn’t work. “You never hit me before,” he said quietly, sounding like a hurt little kid. Maybe he was. </p><p>He saw Ian hold up his hands as if to say my work here is done, and went back inside. Lip righted a chair Carl had kicked over and sat in it. </p><p>“Because I’m a dick,” Lip said plainly. “I was so fucking embarrassed and ashamed at being exposed or whatever, and you were just there.” Lip ran his hands through his hair. “You don’t hit us back. Debbie’s beaten the shit out of you, and you never hit back. At least not in the last few years.” </p><p>Carl shrugged. “I don’t want to hurt her. She’s my sister”</p><p>“But she can hurt you? So I can hurt you, and it’s fine?” Lip asked, shaking his head. Carl didn’t say anything. Lip sighed. “Fuck, Carl. That’s a whole other issue, so anyway. The point is that you were easy to hit. And some sick part of me, knew it would fucking kill you, and I wanted to feel like… power? I don’t fucking know? Like I had an upperhand in the situation? So I hit you.”</p><p>“You felt like everything was out of control and you could fix that by hitting me because I kept pressing you Then you had control of the situation again?” Carl asked slowly. </p><p>“Yeah,” Lip said, biting his Lip. “Exactly.”</p><p>Carl stared at him. “That’s fucked up,” he said tonelessly. </p><p>Lip looked like he was getting kicked. “I know. But I didn’t care at the time.”</p><p>“Obviously,” Carl muttered. He felt like he was getting stabbed. Even though Lip had been emotional and probably didn’t have much control of himself, he fucking hit Carl because Lip knew it would hurt him. He did it on fucking purpose. Which Carl realized, should be fucking obvious since you don’t accidentally punched someone in the face hard enough to give them a black eye.</p><p>“Did it work?” Carl asked in monotone again.</p><p>“No,” Lip whispered. “I felt like shit the second after when you looked at me like I’d betrayed you.” </p><p>Carl nodded and picked up another chair and sat in it. He choked on keeping a sob in his throat.</p><p>“What are you thinking?” Lip asked, staring at Carl intensely. </p><p>“Fuck you,” Carl snarled wetly. He pushed the tears off his cheek angrily. Lip’s eyes were watering but he’d been keeping it together. Carl took a breath. “<i>You aren’t supposed to hurt me on purpose</i>,” Carl choked, emphasizing the you. His older brother is supposed to embarrass the shit out of him, annoy him, but not fucking hurt him. Maybe some other people had that sort of relationship with their brothers, but that was never a thing in their family. They protect each other. You’re not supposed to hurt one another on purpose. Especially if you’re older than someone. It was like this unspoken, holy rule. Lip broke it.</p><p>Lip looked like he wanted to hug Carl but thought better of it. “I know. I’m sorry. I can’t tell you anything else. I’m so fucking sorry,” Lip utter sounding like he was choking on glass. </p><p>Carl scoffed and crossed his arms. ‘Yeah you can. What the fuck are you doing about what happened?” </p><p>“Going back to therapy,” Lip said, looking embarrassed. He scratched the back of his neck. “Do family therapy...I think with mostly Tami...for now. I don’t know. Go back to going to meetings every week. I broke everyone’s trust.”</p><p>“You get that the issue is that you lied and didn’t ask for help? No one’s mad at you for fucking drinking,” Carl said said, raising his eyebrows.</p><p>“Yeah, I do but I think Tami is mad I drank, but yeah,” Lip said. “I know.” </p><p>Carl rolled his eyes at Tami. Tami was Tami. He didn’t always like her much.</p><p>“I don’t know, work to get trust back,” Lip said, sounding sad and frustrated. </p><p>Carl nodded. He didn’t really know if he actually forgave Lip yet because holy fuck, the reason Lip had hit him was killing him. “That’s good.” </p><p>He got up and went into the house. They had to basically be done now because Carl was fucking done. He was fucking exhausted from his head killing him all day. He ignored Ian in the kitchen, and slammed the door to the bathroom shut. He splashed water on his face and stood in there for a few minutes before opening the door.</p><p>Lip was at the fridge pulling out a coke. Carl glanced in the living room. Liam, Franny, and Freddie were playing on the floor while the adults had the TV on. Fuck. He didn’t know if he felt like he forgave Lip but he knew that he did. Carl walked over to the fridge and hugged Lip hard.</p><p>He hoped Lip got what he meant, because this was the first time Carl had ever initiated a hug. When they pulled back Lip nodded at him, and ruffled his hair.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Part Twenty One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sylvia and Carl have an important talk. Ian and Mickey are being dumbasses and Carl has to set them straight.</p><p>**Brief rape mention**</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I feel like Carl doesn't always follow what people are saying to him if it's not direct, and he's so genuinely confused when he's trying to do the right thing.</p><p>Thanks for reading!</p><p>**Brief rape mention**</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You gonna tell me what was up with you yesterday?” Carl asked as he stirred the rice. Sylvia and Carl were making dinner in Sylvia’s house. They were going to have some fake chicken shit. Sylvia said he’d like it but he wasn’t so sure. </p><p>“It was just a shitty day, okay?” Sylvia said defensively from where she was cooking vegetables in a pan.</p><p>“Why?” </p><p>“Jesus Carl,” Sylvia said annoyed. </p><p>“Okay fine,” Carl said, shrugging. “You can fucking pressure me all you want and I have to fucking answer, but you don’t have to. Got it, Carl said bitterly.</p><p>Sylvia was silent for a few seconds “You know, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” she said slowly.</p><p>“Do I? Because you’re fucking pushy about it,” Carl said slamming the lid on the pot. </p><p>“And so because someone is pushy that means you have to do what they say?” Sylvia shot back.</p><p>“Uh, yeah! If you do want someone wants then they don’t get mad and still like you,” Carl yelled. He bit his lip. Fuck. He hadn’t meant to say “and still like you”. No one needed to know he was that fucked up.</p><p>Sylvia didn’t look annoyed anymore, she looked sad. “Jesus, Carl,” she murmured. </p><p>The pot started boiling over so Carl took the lid off and turned down the heat, staring intensely at the rice. She turned the heat off on the vegetables and walked closer to Carl. “Look, I don’t know where you got that idea that if you want people to like you, you have to do what they say all the time. I don’t know if it’s from your family, a friend, school, a past girlfriend…” </p><p>Carl’s eyes cut away from hers and stared at the floor at the last one. He pictured Kassidi yelling that she hated him when he didn’t want to go somewhere. He hadn’t thought about her in a while. He could not afford to open that door, he was going crazy enough. But the door had opened on it’s own so now he had to make sure it stayed fucking locked.<br/> She raised her eyebrows. “Okay, so past girlfriend. But I’m not going to not like you anymore if you don’t want to do something I want you to. That’s not how it actually works, Carl. Most people don’t think that way about other people,” she said the last part gently. “Do you?”</p><p>“No,” Carl said quietly. “Well yeah, I did, if like a teacher told me not to do shit or something.”</p><p>Sylvia shook her head. “Not what I’m talking about. I’m sorry I’m being too pushy. I’m sorry that I did something that bothered you. I’ll stop.” </p><p>They stared at each other for a few moments. Carl nodded. “Okay thanks.” </p><p>Sylvia gave him a soft smile before scrunching her nose. “Rice is burning.” </p><p>“Shit.”<br/>--<br/>After dinner, they were sitting on the floor playing video games when Sylvia paused it. She turned and looked at Carl nervously.</p><p>“So, I need to talk to you about something,” she said quietly. </p><p>“The thing you tried to talk about before?” Carl asked.</p><p>“Yeah, sorry. Can you just like...let me talk and not say anything until I’m done..please?” She looked up at him through her eyelashes.</p><p>He shrugged. “Okay.” </p><p>Sylvia got off the floor and started pacing while wringing her fingers. Carl stayed on the floor but his foot was bouncing. This obviously was not going to be a conversation about anything good. Maybe she was breaking up with him. Then why did they just make dinner together if that was her plan? Maybe she realized he was crazy during dinner. Fuck. <br/>She started talking and Carl forced himself to just listen instead of worrying that he was going to get dumped in the next five minutes.</p><p>“So, we’ve been dating about a month… and we haven’t had sex or even fooled around beyond kissing. Um, I know that sex was a large part of your previous relationships,” She said and winced when Carl turned red. “And that’s fine. It’s just…  I can’t really… give that to you. Right now. Or anytime soon. So, if that’s something you find important, you’re not going to get it from me. So, you can uh... go now…if you want. There’s no point in drawing this out and we just end up breaking up anyway because we’re not going to have sex. If you want out, it’s fine.”</p><p>Carl just blinked at her, trying to take that in. So was she breaking up with him? What? </p><p>“And it’s not that I don’t find you attractive, it’s nothing like that,” she added, awkwardly. She sat on the edge of the couch with her hands clasped, her lips turned in, and looking down. </p><p>Again, what the fuck?</p><p>“Okay. What? Are you breaking up with me?” He asked, bewildered. </p><p>“No!” She said quickly. “I’m… giving you an opportunity to break up with me, now, before we go any further.” </p><p>“But...I don’t want to break up with you,” Carl said, still confused. </p><p>Sylvia sighed. “Okay. I was trying to do it delicately, but I’ll be more blunt. We’re not going to have sex anytime soon. So if that bothers you, we don’t have to keep seeing each other. You should just know that now.” </p><p>Carl’s mouth was still hanging open. “Wait… so you’re saying I’m allowed to break with up with you because we’re not having sex?”</p><p>“Anytime soon,” Sylvia added.</p><p>“Right,” Carl said, furrowing his eyebrows. “I don’t understand why I’d break up with you if that doesn’t bother me though… I’m really fucking confused here, I’m sorry.”</p><p>“So you’re really okay with not having sex? You’re not going to realize a month from now that this is boring or something without it?” Sylvia asked, trying to make it clear to him. <br/>She bit her nails.</p><p>“Yeah,” Carl said, but it sounded more like a question. “I’m not dating you so I can have sex with you.” He shook his head and looked confused. </p><p>“So you do not care we’re not having sex?” She asked again.</p><p>“What? Yeah I don’t fucking care! Where the fuck did this come from? Did I do something that made you uncomfortable? I’m sorry but I don’t know shit if you don’t tell me,” Carl rambled agitatedly. </p><p>“No! You didn’t do anything, Carl,” she reassured him. “I’m just making it clear now so we don’t get upset about it later. Since, like, sex is important to you....” She trailed off.<br/>Carl felt a flare of anger and stood up off the floor. “Wait a minute, you think I only fucking date girls to get in their fucking pants? Do I really come off that fucking much like a douchebag still?” </p><p>“What? No!” Sylvia said, confused now. </p><p>“Because I don’t know. Excuse fucking me, for being I don’t know? Fucking slutty? I was a stupid kid for most of these relationships. Excuse me for being an idiot as a kid and thinking dating was all fucking? Sorry that my 15 year old ass thought that’s what I was supposed to do! So I did it! And I liked it!” Carl huffed, backing up.</p><p>“Wow,” Sylvia said dumbfounded and irritated. “Can you shut the fuck up for a minute? Because you keep putting words in my mouth instead of hearing what I’m actually fucking saying!” Carl crossed his legs and waited. “This has nothing to do with your character! No, you do not come off as a douchebag. No, you didn’t do anything to make me uncomfortable.”</p><p>“Then I don’t understand what the fucking big deal is!” Carl said, getting frustrated with his own stupidity. To his shock she burst into tears. </p><p>“Because I’ve tried dating since…,” she trailed off, and she had to take a breath to prevent herself from sobbing. “I’ve tried dating and everyone fucking leaves me or gets pissed off that we’re not having sex after a while. Okay?  Every other guy has fucking left me because we weren’t fucking! And I really don’t want that to happen again!” She got up off the couch and turned her back to him, covering her mouth, and biting her lip hard.”Fuck.”</p><p>Oh. Carl felt really fucking stupid. This whole time he was listening to her and thinking of his own insecurities, when it wasn’t about his. It was about hers. Fuck. He walked over and crawled on the couch and sat crossed legged in front of her. </p><p>“Well, they are fucking assholes, okay?” Carl said. “I don’t fucking want to be around you so you can get my dick off.”</p><p>She smirked at him a little bit through her tears. “So you haven’t thought about it?”</p><p>Carl turned red. “Yeah..uh maybe I’ve thought about it...but I don’t like wake up in the morning and like come be with you thinking about it and like, wishing for it. Would I want to have sex with you? Yeah. Is that the whole point of why I’m sitting on your ugly ass purple couch? No. I don’t fucking care. And I can’t really prove that to you without time.” </p><p>She nodded. “Yeah...uh that is a fair point. Well I guess I like you enough to let you prove it to me.” </p><p>Carl smirked. “You guess? You’re the one who brought this up, so you can’t tell me you can’t have thought about it?” </p><p>She groaned. “Fine, yes, I’ve thought about it.”</p><p>Carl grinned at her. She lightly kicked his foot. “Fuck you.” </p><p>Her smirk fell and she sat next to him. “You’re not going to ask me why?”</p><p>“Why what?” Carl said.</p><p>“Why we’re not going to have sex.”</p><p>“Oh. Am I supposed to?” He asked, confused again. “It’s not really my business unless you want to tell me.” </p><p>Her eyebrows rose. “Wow.” She shook her head. “Are you actually a real person and not some figment of my imagination?” </p><p>“Uh, I’m pretty sure I’m a real person,” Carl said. </p><p>“Yeah, but like, you actually fucking mean that it’s not your business unless I want it to be. No one fucking thinks that,” she said slowly.</p><p>“I did though,” Carl said. How many more times was he going to be confused six ways to Sunday in this conversation? </p><p>“Yeah. I know. You’re kind of perfect,” She said smiling shyly. </p><p>He started laughing. “Absolutely fucking not, but I mean if you want to believe that, I guess I won’t stop you.”</p><p>She rolled her eyes. “I do believe it.” She laughed as he squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.</p><p>“You realize I’ve literally set a cat on fire for fun? I dealed drugs and was a gun runner. At like 14.” He raised his eyebrows at her.</p><p>“Mhm,” she said. “And last time I checked 19 minus 14 is 5, so that was kind of a while ago in terms of our lives since we’re not that old.” </p><p>She scooted closer to him and he got the hint. He put his arm around her, and kissed the top of her head.</p><p>“I’ll tell you,” she said, quietly.</p><p>“You don’t have to,” Carl insisted.</p><p>“Yeah, but I want to. But I don’t want to talk about it any further, ever. Okay?” She said, ducking to look at his face. He nodded.</p><p>“Okay.” She shook her hands out like she was getting ready to throw a football. “At this party like two years ago, um… this group of guys… ra-...did things I didn’t want them to.” </p><p>Carl’s stomach dropped. He probably should have fucking figured that out himself based on what she had told him. He squeezed her tighter for a second. “I’m sorry.” </p><p>She nodded, before shaking her head. “Wanna watch something?” </p><p>“If it’s not Grey’s Anatomy,” Carl said, smirking. </p><p>She sighed. “Fine.” She handed him the remote. </p><p>He pulled something up. She gaped at him. “Seriously? Pawn Stars?” </p><p>“I watched your show,” he said. “And it’s interesting.” </p><p>“Watching people sell stuff and figure out how much it’s worth is interesting?” She asked, raising her eyebrows.</p><p>“Yeah,” Carl said. “Plus, if it’s a gun or something. I’m always right.”</p><p>She laughed. “Always? Okay, Rambo. Play it and we’ll see.” </p><p>There weren’t any guns in this episode yet to Carl’s disappointment. He lazily stared at the TV. </p><p>Sylvia was shaking him lightly. He startled. “What?”</p><p>“You’re falling asleep, I thought you liked this show.”</p><p>“I was?” Carl asked. He didn’t even notice.</p><p>“Yeah,” she said, xraying his face. “Are you having nightmares again?”</p><p>“How the fuck do you know that?” Carl asked. How did she always fucking know? It was like black magic or some shit.</p><p>“Deduction,” she said simply. She pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and threw it over them. She shifted them so he was more leaning on her now. <br/>“You take Franny to school tomorrow?” She asked casually.</p><p>He looked at her, confused. “No, my turn was today.” </p><p>“Okay”, she smiled and pressed play. He kept staring at her. She rolled her eyes. “Go to sleep.”</p><p>“What if I want to watch it?” Carl said just to be annoying. </p><p>She shrugged. “Then watch it.”</p><p>“You want me to fall asleep so you can change the show,” he said, giving her a mock glare.</p><p>“You caught me.” She ruffled his hair. “Now shut up, if I have to watch this I want to at least see what is supposed to be so damn interesting.”</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>Ian and Mickey had been arguing a lot in the last week. It wasn’t their usual bickering either like what it means to take a pill with food or where the keys to the ambulance were supposed to go. It was a lot of knock down, drag out fighting. Doors slammed and Carl couldn’t totally hear them or understand the context, but they’d been saying some nasty shit to each other that was fucking low. They hadn’t really hit each other but they’d shoved each other around a bit. Then they’d have sex. It was all they did. Scream really shitty things at each other and fuck.</p><p> Everyone had tried to figure out what the issue was, even Debbie when she was randomly around, but they never got an answer. At this point Ian and Mickey were both so touchy, that no one talked to them or stayed in the same room with them unless it was necessary. </p><p>It was Wednesday so it was his day off. He went upstairs to grab Liam’s laundry because he forgot to bring it downstairs again. Carl washed the same few things over and over because he wore a uniform, that he threw in LIam’s laundry to make it worth the water used.</p><p>There was noise like a movie or something was playing in Ian and Mickey’s room. Neither of them were supposed to be home. Maybe they’d left something on. He pushed open the door a bit and froze when he saw Ian on the bed. Ian didn’t look too bad. He wasn’t staring at the wall. He was curled up with his phone too close to his face watching something. </p><p>Carl knocked on the door frame. “Hey.” </p><p>Ian started and turned around. “Oh, hey.”</p><p>“What are you doing here?” Carl asked.</p><p>Ian shrugged. “Mickey’s doing runs by himself today. There’s only a few.” </p><p>Ian said that like it was completely normal, but usually both of them did the runs or neither of them did. Even in the last week where they were at each other’s throats.</p><p>“Why didn’t you go?” Carl asked. He knew he was treading dangerously on asking too many questions.</p><p>Ian said nothing. Carl waited and was going to just leave when he heard a few sniffs. He went in the room all the way and sat on the edge of the bed. Ian’s back was still to him but he was facing the wall the bed was against. There was no way Carl could look at him in the face unless he turned him over, which would go over really fucking badly.</p><p>“Ian?” Carl tried prompting, nervously. </p><p>“I told Mickey I had a headache,” Ian said so quietly and so lowly it was hard to hear him.</p><p>“Do you?” Carl asked.</p><p>“Yeah,” Ian said. <br/>Carl sighed. Ian wasn’t going to cry about a headache unless it was killing him, and Mickey wouldn’t have left him alone if it was that bad. Carl wasn’t even sure Ian was crying since he couldn’t see Ian’s face. “But?” </p><p>Ian turned over and there were some tears on his face and his eyes were red. “I’m starting to feel... bad,” Ian mumbled. </p><p>“Like.. low?” Carl asked. Shit. Ian nodded. “Well, it doesn’t sound like you’re having the best week,” Carl awkwardly offered. </p><p>Ian huffed a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah.”</p><p>“What are you guys fighting about that it’s this fucking bad?” Carl asked. If Ian got annoyed and didn’t give him an answer, then that’s what Ian did and it was whatever.</p><p>“I don’t even know anymore,” Ian said, tiredly. “We started fighting the weekend we took Franny to that kid’s museum.”</p><p>“Really?” Carl said. He didn’t remember hearing them that early on.</p><p>“Yeah, we were just quieter,” Ian said.</p><p>Carl felt his stomach twist. “So you’ve been fighting for almost 2 fucking weeks?” </p><p>“Yeah,” Ian said quietly. </p><p>“Jesus Christ, Ian.” Carl shook his head.</p><p>They fell silent for a bit, thinking.</p><p>“I don’t think that’s the problem here though,” Ian admitted quietly. </p><p>“No?” Carl said. He pushed himself so he was against the wall.</p><p>“You can’t start freaking out or yelling at me, okay?” Ian pleaded.<br/>“Okay,” Carl said slowly.</p><p>“I...” Ian looked guilty. “I’ve been fucking with my med dosages. Not the anti-psych though.”</p><p>Carl bit back the urge to say what the fuck. “Why?” </p><p>“So they don’t run out as fast and we won’t spend as much money, or waste as much time getting them,” Ian said, fidgeting with a string on the pillowcase.<br/>Fuck, Ian. “How have you been fucking with them?” </p><p>“Like skipping dose times or days. I had a whole system but now I can’t keep track of it, so it’s all fucked up. I don’t know what I’ve taken when anymore,” Ian admitted. He sounded kind of scared.</p><p>Oh my god. Carl wanted to whack Ian’s arm. “Where the fuck is this coming from?” </p><p>Ian bit his lip and didn’t look at Carl. Carl had been hearing some not great things come out of Mickey’s mouth about Ian’s bipolar. Carl didn’t think he meant it. He didn’t think either of them meant most of the nasty shit they said. They just went for the lowest hanging fruit.</p><p>“Mickey say something?” Carl asked.</p><p>Ian nodded.</p><p>“You know he doesn’t fucking mean it, right?” Carl scooted away from the wall so he had a full view of Ian’s face.</p><p>“No, I think he means it,” Ian said in a choked whisper. “Or he wouldn’t keep saying stuff. It was always too good to be true, that he would never get tired of my shit.” </p><p>Carl huffed, annoyed. “Ian, he’s just saying the lowest shit he can say to get like, I don’t know, points for himself in an argument. He isn’t fucking tired of your shit.” Carl bit his lip, realizing he was kind of lecturing Ian.</p><p>“You don’t know that for sure,” Ian said. A few tears leaked out of his eyes. </p><p>“Neither do you,” Carl pointed out. “Maybe fucking ask him.” </p><p>Ian shook his head. “No, that’ll make everything worse.”</p><p>Carl rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry, but you need to hear this,” Carl said loudly. “You’re being really fucking stupid.” Ian didn’t react. Carl continued, “Even if any of this was true, it’s not a reason to fuck with your meds. It’s clearly not working out for you. And they’re for you, Ian. Not Mickey.” </p><p>Ian was shaking his head silently, crying. Carl sighed. He patted Ian’s leg and thought about what to do next.</p><p>“You know what?” Carl said, determinedly “You’re done doing this. Do you know what meds you took today?” </p><p>“Carl,” Ian groaned.</p><p>“Answer the fucking question,” Carl snapped. “I’m not going to let you be so fucking stupid. You’re hurting yourself.” </p><p>“Yeah,” Ian said quietly. </p><p>“Okay, so get up and take the rest like you’re supposed to,” Carl ordered.</p><p>Ian sat up but didn’t move to get out of bed. Carl had never really talked to Ian like this so it was all probably going to blow up in his face but Ian needed someone to tell him he was a dumbass and fucking fix it. </p><p>Carl held out a hand to pull Ian out. “Let’s go.” </p><p>Ian took Carl’s hand and walked over to the dresser. He opened his pills and swallowed them with some random half empty glass of water. Ian turned around to go back to bed but Carl held out his hand. </p><p>“Nope, we’re going downstairs,” Carl told Ian. Ian was staring at Carl like he was nuts. Well Carl wasn’t the one fucking around with his medication that was pretty much essential to him not dying. Carl didn’t like thinking about that. He gave Ian’s back a small push. “Come on.” </p><p>Ian threw himself into a chair in the kitchen and put his head down on his arms. </p><p>“I know you haven’t eaten,” Carl scolded. “So what do you want? And don’t fucking tell me nothing.” </p><p>Carl filled a cup of orange juice and placed it in front of Ian. Ian drank it slowly and Carl just waited, staring at Ian so he knew he wasn’t getting out of this. That Carl would fucking stand there for hours if he had to.</p><p>Ian sighed. “We have any ramen?” </p><p>Carl got up and rummaged around on top of the fridge and then in the cabinets. He pulled out a chicken flavored one. “Yeah, you want this?”</p><p>Ian nodded. Carl got a pot filled it with water, dumped the noodles in, and waited for it to boil. “Thought you said ramen was disgusting,” Carl quipped lightly.</p><p>“I said it is disgusting for you. I actually really like it,” Ian said, relaxing slightly now that Carl wasn’t ordering him around like a drill sergeant. “It was the only thing I could think of that I even kind of wanted to eat.” Ian shrugged.</p><p>Carl hummed. “I really like it too but I forgot it existed until now. That was the last one. I’m gonna add it to the list to get more.” Carl went over to a slip of paper held up with a magnet on the fridge and wrote ramen. </p><p>Carl poured the flavor packet in and stirred. He got out a bowl and a fork.</p><p>“Fuck,” Ian exclaimed.</p><p>“What?” <br/>“I’m supposed to do groceries this week,” Ian said. He looked like he felt this was some insurmountable task even though he’d done it a million times before. Maybe it was when Ian didn’t feel good.</p><p>“I’ll do it,” Carl said, easily. “I’m next week. You can do it then.” If Ian would be up for it next week. But it was better to just say that so Ian wouldn’t feel like he wasn’t doing his part. They were just swapping. It was fine.</p><p>“Thanks,” Ian muttered. Carl put the ramen in front of him. “Eat it.”</p><p>Ian rolled his eyes. “Okay mom.” He ate it slowly holding his head up with his hand. He traced patterns on the countertop inbetween bites. Carl couldn’t think of anything else to just shoot the shit about so he made it a point to look at his phone instead of Ian.</p><p>To Mickey: 2:43pm<br/>When are you getting back?</p><p>From Mickey 2:45pm<br/>I don’t fucking know. An hour? Why?</p><p>To Mickey 2:46pm<br/>Because I need to fucking talk to you, and it’s not really an option.</p><p>Carl watched the bubble that showed Mickey was typing start and restart for a few seconds.</p><p>From Mickey 2:48pm<br/>Ok.</p><p>Ok. Great. He pulled out a bag of pretzels and ate them trying to figure out what exactly he was going to do once he had Mickey.</p><p>It took Ian an hour to eat the ramen, but he’d eaten the whole thing so Carl was happy. Mickey walked in. His eyes fell on Ian stirring his fork in the broth left in his bowl and Carl looking at him hard.</p><p>“What the fuck do you want?” Mickey asked Carl. He threw off his jacket onto a chair.</p><p>“Sit down,” Carl said.</p><p>“Fuck you,” MIckey said.</p><p>“Sit the fuck down,” Carl commanded like he had done at military school. He hadn’t done that in a while.</p><p>Mickey looked at him like Carl was insane, but sat, looking warily at him.</p><p>“You two need to cut it out,” Carl said. “Now.”</p><p>Mickey rolled his eyes. “Stay out, asshole. Not your business.” </p><p>Carl scoffed. “I remember someone telling me if their family was okay was their fucking business.” Carl looked at Mickey pointedly. “I don’t care what the fuck you’re fighting about or why or whatever personal shit you two have. You just need to fucking stop. This is fucking ridiculous.” </p><p>Mickey looked at him. Carl could see him thinking. “It’s not your problem,” Mickey insisted. </p><p>“Like fuck it’s not,” Carl yelled. “We’re all getting tired of you two shouting at each other and how fucking tense it is in here all the time. Franny keeps asking when you’ll play with her. Liam is miserable and can’t concentrate on homework. Ian’s fucking being a dumbass. So yeah, it’s my problem.” </p><p>Mickey looked at Ian and then Carl. “What?” </p><p>Carl crossed his arms and looked at Ian. “You gonna tell him or am I? Because if you tell him, I don’t have to stand here in the middle of your shit.” More like so they could have privacy but that was more acceptable to tell them.</p><p>“I’ll do it,” Ian said in a small voice.</p><p>“Great!” Carl threw up his hands. “I don’t care if you have to sacrifice your souls to the underworld or some shit, figure this out. Now.” </p><p>Carl went downstairs and flopped onto his bed. Fucking Christ. That was not what he had planned to do today. He’d forgotten Liam’s laundry upstairs. He’d do it later If Ian or Mickey tried to argue they needed to use the washer, fuck them. Carl could have done this when no one was home so it wouldn’t be in anyone’s way. But the two of them were being stupid, so now he had to do it later. Their own damn fault if they don’t get a turn. Carl had an idea.</p><p>To Sylvia 3:33pm<br/>So what if we played the game with the candy at my house… so everyone could play. Or at least Liam and Franny. They should have something fun.”<br/>We can do it alone another day.</p><p>From Sylvia 3:38pm<br/>Sure. Sounds fun. Are they gonna stop fighting?</p><p>To Sylvia 3:40pm<br/>That better fucking be. If not we can go outside. It’s warm.</p><p>From Sylvia 3:48pm<br/>Sounds good. Same time?</p><p>To Sylvia 3:51pm<br/>Maybe push it back an hour. So these two bozos might actually get their shit together.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I kind of want to finish this up because I have ideas for a sequel or something. Would anyone actually read it though?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Part Twenty Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sylvia's not doing very well.</p><p>**Character mentions self harm and wants to, but it doesn't occur**</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>**Character mentions self harm and wants to, but it doesn't occur**</p><p>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Franny and Liam got a huge kick out of catching candy in their mouths. They didn’t let Franny try to catch because Carl was afraid she’d choke, so she did a lot of tossing. A lot of the candy didn’t even make it close to anyone’s mouth when she tossed.</p><p>Ian and Mickey had left the house and come back later with the kind of dirt they have at baseball diamonds all over their clothes. Carl didn’t ask and didn’t want to know. They didn’t scream at each other again and that was all Carl cared about. Ian and Mickey still had some residual tension but it seemed like they were at least trying to work it out instead of seeing who could be the loudest and meanest.</p><p>Franny had asked Mickey and Ian if they were going to break up since they were so mad at each other. She didn’t know the word divorce, Her question kind of put them back on their asses and whipped them to shape even more than Carl did. Carl hadn’t been worried about them splitting up. Neither was LIam. When Franny asked them the question first, Liam just immediately said no. There was no way they were splitting each other now after all the shit it took for them to even be together. They would just stay together screaming forever.</p><p>Franny was obsessed with Sylvia. For someone she’d met twice, Franny had Sylvia on the pedestal next to Uncle Mickey. Franny did not shut up about her and asked Carl every morning if Sylvia was going to come play with her. Carl was pretty sure that Sylvia was as equally enamored with Franny which was fucking adorable but also like, Carl wanted Sylvia to hang out with him and not be upstaged by a five year old. He wasn’t actually mad about it. It was kind of funny. Unfortunately, Mickey thought it was fucking hilarious and would not shut up about it. </p><p>Sylvia hadn’t come around in two weeks and Franny was about to explode, and so was Carl from answering the same question a million times a day. “No, Sylvia was not coming over because she is sick.” Which was true, but not in the sense Franny understood what being sick meant.</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>Carl’s phone lit up and buzzed underneath his cheek. He hadn’t been able to fall asleep beyond a light doze so it woke him up easily. Sylvia’s name flashed on the screen and he sat up quickly.</p><p>His stomach churned with anxiety. Sylvia had not been doing well the last two weeks. She kept telling him her depression was acting up but when Carl would suggest calling her doctor, she wouldn’t do it. She didn’t want to call her parents. She didn’t want to call any of her friends back in New York. She would not call her older sister. She mostly sat at the kitchen table and got frustrated with school work to the point of tears. It was the end of the semester which meant a lot of tests and papers. She was easily irritated and snapped a lot, but would cry about it later like she’d committed murder. She didn’t leave the house except for work and school. She didn’t really have work these few weeks because she’d cut her hours to concentrate on finishing the semester. </p><p>He had to go buy her groceries because she refused to do that too. She basically refused to do anything other than school work or laying on the couch with the TV on. She’d talked the normal amount she usually did the first week, but now she said almost nothing. He didn’t really know how to do this shit. He was starting to think he was making everything worse because she just seemed to keep getting worse. Now she was calling him in the middle of the night. </p><p>“Hey,” he said, picking up. “What’s up?”</p><p>The other side of the line was silent except for some sniffles.</p><p>“Sylvia? Are you okay?” Carl asked, anxiously. No shit, she wasn’t but he kind of meant like are you not fucking dying.</p><p>“Can you come here?” She asked in between a sob. Carl almost hadn’t understood her.</p><p>“Now?”</p><p>“Yeah,” she replied.</p><p>“Okay. Give me like 15 minutes.” They hung up. </p><p>Carl threw on some sweats and his sneakers. He wished Mickey didn’t have the car keys in his room. He was definitely going to try to make it more like 7 minutes. He went outside and started running down the sidewalk. He ran the whole way to her house and banged on the door as he caught his breath. </p><p>Carl had asked Mickey for advice and Mickey told him to look at her pill bottles for the prescriber on it, and call them. Carl had tried it but Sylvia wouldn’t speak to the doctor, and she kicked him out for the rest of the day.</p><p>She opened the door in a hurry and flew back into the house. Carl had barely shut the door when she kicked a cardboard box to him. He looked down at it. It was all sharp shit. Scissors. Cooking knives. Razors. Fucking push-pins and paper clips. He felt like he was going to throw up.</p><p>“What did you do?” He yelled. He was trying to go to her but his body wasn’t cooperating. He was frozen in fear.</p><p>“Get rid of it,” she yelled, desperately. She ran her fingers through her hair. </p><p>“What did you do?” Carl repeated, louder.</p><p>“Get rid of it,” she screamed. Carl picked up the box and opened the door. He threw it out onto the porch and shut the door. </p><p>“Okay. It’s gone, okay?” He said. His brain seemed to have unfrozen and he was moving towards her. He had no fucking idea what to do. He stood in front of her. “Did you hurt yourself?”</p><p>She shook her head. </p><p>“Sylvia!” He yelled. “Did you?” </p><p>“No! I said no!” She yelled back. </p><p>Carl refrained from pointing out that shaking your head wasn’t saying no the question. She could be shaking it because she didn’t want to answer him. </p><p>His mouth was dry. He felt like his stung was sticking to the roof of his mouth as he talked. “Please don’t be lying to me,” he said pleadingly. </p><p>She looked at him for a second before just dropping her pants to her ankles and pulling her shirt off so it was hanging around her neck and walked in a circle. Then she pulled her clothes back on all the way. </p><p>Carl was stunned into silence. That was definitely not how he wanted to see her undress for the first. That was definitely not what he meant she had to do. “I didn’t mean you have to do that, fucking hell.”</p><p>“Well you can stop worrying about it now,” she responded simply. “You want coffee?”</p><p>Carl didn’t even answer before she started slamming around the kitchen, not looking at him. “What the fuck was that?” Carl demanded to know.<br/>“Nothing,” she said shortly. “Sorry, I’m sorry. It’s nothing.” She lined two mugs up on the counter.</p><p>“You can’t just call me in the middle of the night, basically tell me you want to hurt yourself, and then not fucking tell me anything!” Carl yelled. Fuck. He probably shouldn’t be yelling at her right now. He didn’t know how to do this shit. He didn’t know what the fuck he was supposed to and he was fucking scared.<br/>She poured coffee into two cups and set them loudly on the table. Sylvia pulled out a chair and sat down. Carl groaned in frustration and turned his back to her. He put his elbows on the counter and held his head in his hands. </p><p>“I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do here,” he admitted quietly. “I’m not a fucking doctor. You need an actual doctor.” He glanced over his shoulder. She was staring hard at her coffee, still not fucking talking.</p><p>He put his head back in his hands and felt his eyes prick with tears. He didn’t have time for that shit. He clenched his hands and tried to think of something to do. Carl had spent a lot of time in the last two weeks reading about depression and stuff, even more than he’d already read for Ian. All the articles said that he shouldn't try to fix it because he can't..so he turned around and dropped into a chair next to her. </p><p>“How can I help?” He said gently, but felt awkward as fuck. </p><p>She looked up. Her eyes filled with tears. “You can’t,” she whispered. </p><p>“I can’t fix whatever it is,” Carl said. He put his hand on the table with his palm up. She hesitated for a second before putting her hand on top of his. “But I can hug you, listen to you, I don’t know try to stand on my fucking head if you want, make you some probably awful cookies, watch hours of Grey’s Anatomy with you.” </p><p>She smiled a little. “You were right,” she said quietly. </p><p>“About what?” Carl asked, confused. <br/>“That I should have talked to my doctor when you called her,” she admitted. </p><p>Carl breathed a sigh of relief without meaning to. He was trying to figure out how to bring that up to her again and was ready for a fight but she got to the conclusion herself. Finally.</p><p>Carl shrugged. “It’s not too late to do that. I mean, it’s kind of too late at night to call her right now, but you can in the morning.” </p><p>“Yeah,” Sylvia acknowledged. “She keeps calling me and leaving me messages. She called me earlier.” </p><p>Carl realized something and felt fucking stupid. Maybe she didn’t want to call because she didn’t like her doctor. Ian wouldn’t do shit if he didn’t like the doctor most of the time. “Do you like her?” </p><p>“Yeah,” Sylvia said. “She’s nice. She knows what she’s doing.” </p><p>“Why wouldn’t you talk to her?” Carl asked. He bit his lip. This was more she had said all week and he felt like one wrong question or move, and she was going to shut down.<br/>“It’s stupid,” Sylvia muttered, shaking her head.</p><p>“You’re talking to the king of stupid,” Carl said. “Try me.”</p><p>“You’re not stupid,” Sylvia remarked, rolling her eyes. She drank some of her coffee and sighed. “I don’t know, because if you say it out loud it’s real. And I was trying to pretend it wasn’t real even though I know it’s real because it feels like shit.” </p><p>“That’s not stupid,” Carl said, softly. “I get that.” </p><p>Carl waited for her to continue talking. He was starting to feel like he had a hook in, and she’d talk if he just let her do it on her own time.<br/>“I used to cut myself in high school,” Sylvia confessed, starting to cry. “I haven’t, in like three years which is some kind of miracle because my sister is fucking dead.” <br/>Carl squeezed her hand.</p><p>“And I wanted to, really badly earlier but I really didn’t want to fuck up after all this time. I don’t know. That made it very fucking real and I can’t pretend it’s not. And I really don’t want to keep feeling like this, so, yeah. I should call my doctor.” She wiped her tears off her face.</p><p>Carl felt this weird sense of pride that she hadn’t hurt herself and realized she needed help. “I’m glad you didn’t do anything,” Carl said.</p><p>She nodded, looking at him for a bit. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I panicked and you’re the only one actually near me and if I could get someone else here then I wouldn’t be able to do it and I shouldn’t have dragged you into this and I’m so sorry, and…” </p><p>Carl cut off her nervous babble. “It’s okay,” he said, smiling softly. “Calling me is a way better option than hurting yourself.” </p><p>She shook her head and pressed her hands into her eyes, as if she were trying to keep the tears in. “I still shouldn’t have.” </p><p>He titled his head and considered her. He hooked his foot around her chair and pulled it closer, but not too close that she might freak out. “I don’t know, I think I remember some idiot told me that’s what boyfriends and girlfriends do.” He smirked at her. “Oh look, there she is.”</p><p>She snorted. “That was cheesy.” </p><p>Carl grinned.. “Hey! We could eat pizza. Pizza kinda fixes everything. Even though I guess that’s kind of cheesy too.” </p><p>She laughed a little. “You’re not wrong,” She glanced at the clock on the microwave. “But we’re not going to find any pizza at 3 in the morning.” </p><p>“Yeah, but there’s tomorrow… or today in a few hours. And we can eat pizza tomorrow/today. And call your doctor. And maybe feel less shitty.,” Carl pointed out. <br/>She smiled but it faded. She bit her lip. “Can you do it? It’s probably never going to happen if I’m the one who has to dial the phone.”</p><p>“Sure,” Carl said. “But we’ll have to do it right when they open so maybe they can find a time to see you. I also have work.”</p><p>“Fuck, Carl. “I’m sorry.” She ran her fingers through her hair and looked guilty. </p><p>“It’s fine. I’m just telling you. Plus, they give me a weird ass shift of like five hours. 10 to 3. They’re trying some scheduling computer program that just spits out shifts according to what they need. I don’t know why you’d need me for only 5 hours, but whatever,” Carl rambled. “Sorry, rambled.”</p><p>“They open at 8. So like, in five hours,” she informed him. She looked at her coffee and grimaced. She got up and poured it down the sink.</p><p>“Okay, so now what?” Carl asked. </p><p>“You can go home,” Sylvia said.</p><p>“I wasn’t planning on it, but I can if that’s what you want,” Carl said. He would really rather not go back home because honestly going home and sleeping for like two hours and coming back sounded like a pain in the ass. But more importantly, he didn’t really feel comfortable just leaving her alone right now.<br/>“I don’t know, you still wanna stay if we’re watching Grey’s Anatomy?” She grinned, teasingly. </p><p>Carl made an exaggerated sigh. “I guess I will make that sacrifice and suffer.” </p><p>She rolled her eyes and sat on the couch turning the TV on. He sat next to her. “You’re going to fall asleep anyway,” she told him.</p><p>“I will not,” Carl said indignantly. </p><p>“You fall asleep all the time when we watch anything but especially when I make you watch this.” She elbowed him lightly. </p><p>“I can’t help that it’s boring,” Carl shrugged. She hadn’t ripped his head off yet so he figured he’d just ask,  “Shouldn’t you try to sleep?” </p><p>“Yeah, maybe I’ll fall asleep too,” she said, raising her eyebrows at him. She threw the blanket on his head and he scoffed. They arranged themselves so they were half lying down while he held her. </p><p>“Shit,” she muttered, pushing his arm off.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>She went in the kitchen and came back with her phone. “We need an alarm if we fall asleep.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah that’s smart,” Carl said. He cringed when he realized all his words were starting to run together.</p><p>She laughed. “Yeah well, you’ll definitely be asleep.”</p><p>“Fuck off,” he grumbled as he put his arms back around her and kissed the top of her head.</p><p>“Just go to sleep,” she shot back and pressed play. He barely stayed awake for a minute of the show.</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>The worst version of his nightmare played behind his eyes except Sylvia got out of Debbie’s car too. Thankfully, the nightmare didn’t get very far. Someone was shaking his shoulders and saying his name. His eyes flew open. Sylvia was kneeling over him with her hand on his shoulder. Her hair made a curtain around their faces. He sat up and she backed off and sat facing him. </p><p>Carl’s brain was stuck like it was shocked he’d been forced awake. He stared at her with wide eyes, trying to make sense of things in his jammed up brain. He glanced around the room. The TV was still playing in the back.</p><p>“You were like, moving around and mumbling. You screamed so I figured I should wake you up,” She explained to him. </p><p>Well that was kind of fucking embarrassing. He groaned and put his hands over his face.</p><p>“Are you okay?” Sylvia asked gently. </p><p>Carl felt more dazed and confused than anything. He was starting to lose the details of his nightmare, even though they were all pretty similar so it’s not like he couldn’t fill in the blanks. He nodded. </p><p>She looked at him skeptically. “You sure?”</p><p>“Yeah, I’m sorry,” he murmured. “Just kinda feel out of it.” </p><p>“Probably because I woke you up in the middle of the deepest part of the sleep cycle. Sorry,” She cringed sympathetically. </p><p>“It’s fine,” he mumbled. He sat up and pulled his legs to his chest and rubbed his eyes. She got up and came back with water. “Thanks,” he muttered and drank it.</p><p>“You weren’t asleep for even two hours,” Sylvia said, looking concerned. </p><p>Carl shrugged. “Oh well.” He narrowed his eyes. “You weren’t asleep when you need to be either.” </p><p>His eyes landed on the screen and he got distracted by some guy in a white coat moving around. He wasn’t really following the story, just watching the images. Sylvia was talking but he wasn’t really hearing her.</p><p>She shook his shoulder again. “You sure you’re okay?” </p><p>He blinked a few times and forced himself to look at her. He nodded. “Mhm.” </p><p>“If you’re lying to me because you think you have to pretend like nothing is wrong to support me, I’m going to kick your ass.” She raised an eyebrow at him. <br/>Honestly, if he was more coherent, that probably would have been doing that but Carl just felt half way out of reality, and kept getting distracted by things without meaning to. He rubbed his eyes tiredly. He tried to think of how to say that but no words were coming to mind so he just grunted.</p><p>“Wow, okay,” she said, shaking her head. She tugged on his arm. “Come here.”</p><p>He got stuck on the screen again. “What?” </p><p>“Come here,” she repeated and kept tugging him until he moved so he was leaning against her. </p><p>He made a whining noise that if he were more awake, would have definitely made him turn red. She snorted, and pushed his hair away from his forehead. “I can’t decide if this is really fucking cute or just annoying.” </p><p>“What?” That made no sense.</p><p>“Oh my god, nevermind.” She smirked and kept running her hands through his hair. Fuck her. She knew that would make him fall asleep.</p><p>“Stop.. doing that,” Carl complained. “Don’t wanna go to sleep.” He moved his head away but ended up hitting her chin with the top of his head. “Sorry,” he mumbled. </p><p>“Yeah, I’ve decided you’re annoying,” Sylvia told him.</p><p>“What?” He said again. She’d gone back to petting his hair and his eyes felt heavy.</p><p>“Shut up.” </p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>The alarm went off and he bolted up right. Sylvia rubbed her hand on his back. He turned around. “Did you sleep at all?” </p><p>“Uh no,” Sylvia said, looking away. “Was too busy laughing at your stupid ass.” </p><p>“That’s not good,” he muttered. He shook his hands out, trying to wake himself up more. He had a small headache and he really fucking hoped it wasn’t going to turn into a migraine. He stood up and stretched. She threw a bottle of ibuprofen and a granola bar at him. She plopped back on the couch opening her own bar.</p><p>“I’m not even gonna ask,” Carl mumbled, opening the bottle. </p><p>“Your left eyebrow twitches a little when your head hurts,” she said, like she was telling him the weather. “Is it bad?”</p><p>He was too tired for this shit. He scoffed. “Twitches… Uh, no, it’s not really anything right now.” He threw the bottle into her lap and she huffed. “Thanks.” </p><p>When she got to the last bite of her granola bar he picked her phone up off the table, and held it out to her. She bit her lip and grew visibly anxious, and didn’t take the phone. </p><p>“You said..” She started.</p><p>“I know,” Carl said. “But you need to pull up the number.” </p><p>Carl awkwardly made the introduction and Sylvia took her phone to talk to the doctor. She got up and went to her room, shutting the door. Carl looked at his phone. He had to get going soon. He guessed he was just going to have to skip showering to get there on time.</p><p>She came out about ten minutes later, her eyes red. She slumped back on the couch. “She said she wants me to come in at 4.” </p><p>He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “You did good,” he said softly. </p><p>She bit her lip. “I’m really sorry,” she said nervously, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to ask more from you. But I don’t know if,”</p><p>Carl cut her off. “Want a ride there? I’ll come back after work.”</p><p>She looked relieved and said, “yes please”, before kissing him.</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>When Carl got back he made a beeline to go get changed. </p><p>“Someone had fun last night,” Mickey called. Carl ignored him and shut the basement door. </p><p>He changed quickly and tried to make his hair look less shitty. He went back up and sighed. They didn’t do shit but maybe he should take them with him for once. Carl grabbed the pill bottles and went to get his lunch box. He was so glad he hadn’t waited until this morning to pack lunch. He threw the pills in and zipped it shut. <br/>“Where are the keys?” Carl asked.</p><p>Ian came over and dropped them into his hand. He blinked. He didn’t even notice Ian coming in the room. Ian put his hand on his shoulder to prevent him from leaving. “You okay? Mickey was just being an asshole.”</p><p>“I know. I’m fine. It was just a long night. I’ll see you later,” he slouched away from Ian and shut the door, not really listening to what Ian was saying as he did. </p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>She glanced at him and then the Red Bull. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I can go myself. Go sleep or something.”</p><p>“Uh-uh, nice try,” Carl said, and started the car. </p><p>“I wasn’t trying to get out of it, you literally look like shit and it’s my fault.” </p><p>“Literally?” Carl asked, teasing. “Wow. Thanks. Thought I was cute.” </p><p>“I said you were annoying.”</p><p>“And cute.”</p><p>“Shut up.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Part Twenty Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sylvia goes to the doctor. Some of Sylvia's issues bring up some of Carl's.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks Mondmaedchen for pointing out the connection with Monica that I completely forgot about somehow. The inspiration for this chapter is from your comment!</p><p>Thanks for reading</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sylvia opened the car door, and dropped heavily into the front passenger seat. Carl pulled his headphones out. He could already tell that it had been rough before asking, “How was it?” </p><p>She shrugged. “Shitty. But it’s always shitty.” </p><p>“Did it help?” Carl asked. He was reminded of Mickey when Ian would go to the doctor alone and come back. Ian would say it went badly because that’s how Ian always saw it. Then Mickey would ask if it helped and they’d get a more balanced answer.</p><p>“Yeah. It will,” she sighed. She crossed her arms around her stomach and hunched in. She stared at the window in front of her. </p><p>Carl was getting the impression she didn’t want to talk about it anymore at the moment. “Still wanna get pizza?” </p><p>She shook her head. “I wanna go home. But um, can we stop at the pharmacy?” She held up a paper script with the same look Ian did when he got his meds upped or changed. Tired of trying.</p><p>“Sure,” Carl said. They didn’t talk and the silence was heavy. It would have driven Carl nuts if he didn’t know that this had nothing to do with him. So it was just kind of sad but it felt wrong to try to change it since she clearly didn’t want to.</p><p>He got out of the car with her when they got there. She glared at him and he took a step back. That had come out of nowhere. “I don’t need you to come in with me,” she snapped.</p><p>Carl raised his eyebrows at her and responded calmly. She wasn’t actually mad at him, just burnt out. “I need to grab some stuff.”</p><p>“Oh,” Sylvia said. She kicked a loose pebble of gravel. “Sorry.” </p><p>Carl shrugged and smiled a little in response. They went in and he purposely went to the other side of the store than where she went. He tried to think of the stuff on the list on the fridge that they needed. He really needed to start taking a picture of it. </p><p>He wandered around with a basket and dumped dish soap in it. He walked through the beauty section and remembered all of Franny’s hair ties had snapped. Carl grabbed some. He didn’t understand why that shit never lasted long when they were so expensive. They were just elastic and thread. He had wondered if it was because Franny yanked her hair out of her bun at night, but Sylvia said that was just the way the things were. Fucking stupid. </p><p>Carl kept dropping stuff in for Franny. Apple juice, milk, ziplock bags for her lunch, kids' toothpaste. Getting the toothpaste without Franny was a dangerous game because sometimes she wanted the princess one and sometimes she didn’t, and there was no reasoning to it. He just got plain, with no characters, which would also probably be a problem but whatever. It was fucking toothpaste. If you brought home the wrong thing, usually the princess one, she’d get mad. She’d start talking about wishing she was a boy, which Carl, Lip, Ian, and Mickey hadn’t talked about the implications of that yet. Debbie just got mad when Franny said it, and then they both argued with each other the whole time Debbie was around. </p><p>Carl bought the shit and wandered over to where Sylvia was. She was sitting in a chair waiting. “They need to fill them, you can go. I’ll walk back.” </p><p>“It’s fine,” Carl said and dropped next to her. She sighed. “I’m just going to sit here,” he told her. He took out his phone and angled his body slightly away from her so she got the message that he literally was just going to sit there. Not try to get her to talk about what happened. Or try to get her to talk about anything. She seemed to be in the mood where she didn’t want to talk about anything at all. </p><p>Carl understood that feeling. He had it all the time, even when he was younger but sometimes when there’s five other people in the house competing for the bathroom, the biggest slice of pizza, a spot on the couch, he had to talk or lose.</p><p>He dropped Sylvia off. She didn’t want him to come in which made Carl nervous but she needed space. He reminded her to call him if she needed anything. When he got back to the house he dropped the bag of stuff on the kitchen table, and dropped into a seat. He put his head in his hands. Fuck. He was tired.</p><p>Mickey walked into the kitchen. “That stuff for dinner?” He eyed the bag on the table.</p><p>“What?” Carl asked. </p><p>“Dinner. It’s your turn,” Mickey told him, rolling his eyes.</p><p>“Fuck,” Carl swore. He’d forgotten all about that. “No but it’s got stuff for Franny in it.” </p><p>Carl ordered pizza like he always did because he was too fucking tired to even attempt to do something else. MIckey went through the bag and held up a box of Red Bulls. “This nasty shit for you?” </p><p>Carl nodded. Mickey stared at the box for a bit, and then put it down. He went over to the fridge and put the milk and apple juice in. “You know that shit is fucking awful for you, right?” </p><p>Carl groaned. “Says the person blackening his lungs smoking.” </p><p>“Yeah whatever,” Mickey dismissed. “You can’t replace sleep with this shit.” He looked at Carl, scrutinizing him with his xray vision crap.</p><p>Carl said nothing and went downstairs to get a change of clothes to shower. He shut the door and sat on the closed toilet lid, willing himself to find more energy. Carl heard Liam go down the steps into the kitchen. The bathroom was one of the best places to eavesdrop on the kitchen because it was right above it, and all the plumbing carried their voices. </p><p>“Whose is that?” Liam said in disgust.</p><p>“Your idiot brother’s,” Mickey responded.</p><p>“Ian?” Liam asked incredulously. </p><p>“No, if I caught Ian drinking a Red Bull I’d kick his ass. It’s Carl’s,” MIckey explained.</p><p>“Where is Ian?” Liam asked.</p><p>“Therapy,” Mickey said as if he were answering what color the sky was.</p><p>Carl leaned forward at that. Since when had Ian started going back to therapy? </p><p>“Since when?” Liam asked. </p><p>“Since now,” Mickey said, getting irritated. “Mind your own business.” </p><p>The fridge opened and closed. “What’s for dinner?” Liam asked.</p><p>“Pizza,” Mickey said, “which I guess one of us will have to go get from the door because Carl is holed up in the bathroom.”</p><p>“You know he doesn’t sleep?” Liam asked Mickey, sounding kind of tentative. He had just been told to mind his own business but usually, that meant exclusively Ian and Mickey’s business because Mickey needed to be in everyone else’s too.</p><p>“Carl?” Mickey asked. </p><p>“Yeah. You talk to him about it?” </p><p>“No, why would I have fucking talked to him about it?” Mickey replied. Carl could practically see the scoff Mickey gave through the floor.</p><p>Liam ignored that. “Lip or Ian?”</p><p>“If they did, they didn’t mention it to me,” Mickey said, sounding done with this conversation.</p><p>“So you’re just going to keep letting him scream himself awake?” Liam asked, incredulously. </p><p>“He did that once,” Mickey responded.</p><p>“No, actually, he does it a lot. You all are dense,” Liam sighed. </p><p>“You fucking talk to him then,” Mickey snapped.</p><p>“I will but he listens differently to you guys,” Liam insisted.</p><p>“Jesus, if I talk to Ian and Lip about it will you shut up?” Mickey asked. </p><p>“You’re such an asshole when you’re hungry,” Liam muttered and stomped back up the stairs. </p><p>Carl realized he hadn’t started the shower. Well, hopefully, no one had noticed how long it took him to turn it on. By the time he was done, the pizza was there, Ian was back, and Lip, Tami, and Fred were there too. They were all so fucking loud. Carl groaned. His headache had pretty much stayed light all day but Fred’s loud squeal of delight made his head throb. Carl really just wanted to get his food and go downstairs, but then he’d never hear the end of it and never have time alone. </p><p>He dropped into a seat silently and took a slice. “So Carl, we were just talking about Debbie,” Lip said.</p><p>“Okay,” Carl said, not sure where exactly they were going. Plus, Franny was right there. He looked pointedly at her but she was too busy playing with Fred to even notice them. Mickey glanced at the pair and then back at him with his eyebrows raised. Whatever.</p><p>“You gotta stop buying stuff for Franny,” Lip said.</p><p>Carl realized Lip was planning to continue only after the moment Carl opened his big fucking mouth. “And what, have her starve?” He was irritated. Couldn’t they talk about this later? </p><p>“No, dumbass,” Lip said. “I was going to say you gotta start charging Debbie to pay you back.” </p><p>Carl sighed and rubbed his forehead. “It’s fine,” he muttered.</p><p>“No, it’s not,” Ian said from down the table. “She’s using you.” </p><p>“Can we not talk about this right now?” Carl asked, feeling bone tired.</p><p>“Why so you can avoid the conversation altogether?” Lip asked. Okay well, sue him. Carl had been avoiding this conversation but that honestly wasn’t why he couldn’t have it right now.</p><p>“No,” Carl growled. “I’m tired and my head hurts.” He grabbed more pizza, a coke from the center of the table, and slammed the door to the basement shut.</p><p>Well, so much for no one bothering him because storming off is the number one way to get any of his siblings running after him. </p><p>A chair scraped upstairs. </p><p>“Leave him alone,” Liam said.</p><p>“What?” Lip asked, shocked.</p><p>“You were just lecturing me about talking to him,” Mickey pointed out. </p><p>“Yeah and you can do it later. Just leave him alone for now. No one wants to talk when they don’t feel well,” Liam reasoned. </p><p>Sometimes Liam was a gem that none of the Gallagher siblings deserved. </p><p>“Talk to him about what?” Lip asked, sounding anxious. </p><p>“The fact that he doesn’t sleep,” Liam told him.</p><p>“What?” Lip exclaimed. </p><p>Fuck. Carl did not want to listen to them talk about him. He realized with a twist in his stomach that he was the problem again, like when he got sick when Ian was in the hospital. Fuck. He had to keep it together. He should have just let them have the conversation with him.</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>A few hours later there was a knock on the door. “What?” Carl yelled, praying they weren’t going to try to have the whole Debbie conversation again. </p><p>“Can I come down?” It was Liam. Fuck. He was going to talk to Carl and getting talked to by Liam was like getting your ass whipped bare because the kid knew fucking everything.<br/>“Yeah,” Carl called back. Laim crawled onto his bed. “What’s up?” </p><p>“Wanna watch a movie?” Liam said, “Down here. Everyone else is being annoying.” </p><p>Carl raised his eyebrows at him. That probably was partially true but there was an ulterior motive here. But whatever. He’d watch a movie with Liam, because Liam didn’t talk during movies. And so help you, if you talked during a movie Liam was trying to watch.</p><p>“Okay. Put something on,” Carl said, getting comfortable.</p><p>Liam put on the movie. Then he flopped down next to Carl, and rolled over so he was pressing right into him. Liam put his arm around Carl’s stomach.</p><p>“What are you doing?” Carl asked warily. If Liam wanted to cuddle he should go find Ian. </p><p>“Hugging you,” Liam said, keeping his eyes on the screen.</p><p>“Why…?” </p><p>“Because you’re my brother,” Liam responded, simply.</p><p>“What if I don’t want a fucking hug?” Carl said irritably but didn’t move. He didn’t want to hurt Liam’s feelings if he could help it.</p><p>Liam smirked at him. “Then you would have already pushed me off and you wouldn’t have like, melted, when I hugged you.”</p><p>Carl turned red. “I did not!” </p><p>“Did too. And maybe I want cuddles. Now we have to start over,” Liam said, rewinding the movie.</p><p>“Go find Ian then,” Carl rolled his eyes. “You were the one talking to me.”</p><p>“Mmm, no, I’m good,” Liam said snuggling closer. </p><p>Carl groaned but lifted an arm so it was around Liam’s shoulders. They watched the movie for a while. Liam kept glancing back at him which Carl just ignored. Until he realized that Liam had started petting his head. </p><p>“Stop that,” Carl said, moving his head. “I’m not going to sleep.” </p><p>Liam didn’t respond but did stop petting his head. For a while. Then he started again and Carl really wasn’t awake enough to argue. Fuck Liam and his plan to make him sleep. He wanted to get up and go upstairs but he couldn’t do it.</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>Sylvia’s door was open with just the screen door in the frame. It was actually nice out and not super windy for once. “Hey,” he called as he pushed the door opened and went inside. </p><p>A cardboard box was at her feet. She rinsed kitchen knives and put them back into their holders. “Hey,” she said back. She noticed his questioning look. “I told my therapist I’d put the stuff back today. It’s been a week. Leave it out there much longer and someone will finally steal it.” </p><p>Carl nodded, staring at the dish towel hanging off the side of the counter and a knife next to it. He was starting to feel really fucking weird, like he wasn’t actually there. She stepped in front of them. “You okay?” </p><p>Carl nodded again. His fingers were tingling. He moved them a bit, feeling like he was just moving a puppet. What the fuck was happening?</p><p>Sylvia gently touched his elbow and he flinched. Carl heard her say “fuck” and watched her realize something but Carl had no idea what the hell she was realizing. Carl’s eyes were wandering everywhere. Why was his chest starting to hurt?</p><p>“Hey,” Sylvia said sternly. Carl’s eyes snapped back to her. She pulled out a chair from the table. “Come here.” </p><p>Carl shook his head and backed up on wobbly legs. He hit the edge of the table and the leg hard, and fell. The floor swam in and out of his focus. He looked up to try to clear his head and saw the dish towel...</p><p> <i>and suddenly he’s 9 years old and Monica’s bleeding on the kitchen floor. He’s 9 years old and makes jokes about how cool blood is all the time but now he wants to throw up. He’s 9 years old and he wants to know why his mom is always trying to leave him in one way or another. He’s wondering if he did something bad earlier in the day that bothered her. Steve, Jimmy, whoever the hell he is, is screaming about towels. Veronica pushes them upstairs but all Carl can keep seeing his mom’s face vacant and too expressive at the same time, crying. Veronica goes to hug him, but he backs up. He doesn’t want to be up here. He wants to be downstairs. Up here he can’t see if she’s going to leave him alone, alone, alone, again.</i></p><p>
  <i> Veronica is kneeling in front of him and he knows she loves him so he’s not really alone but it’s not her he wants love from. He wants his mom to love him and his big sister to stop thinking he’s a psychopath and Debbie to stop always being better than him. He wants Lip but he’s not there because he also left Carl alone. He wants someone to remember he exists before he’s blowing up a goldfish in the microwave or hitting kids at school. He doesn’t even like it but when he does it, they all look at him for once. He knows his family loves him but they don’t see him. He’s 9 years old and alone, and he never wants to care about anyone again. He closes his eyes and continues to ignore Vee. No one ever sees him until he’s acting fucking crazy or his mom is dying on their kitchen floor.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Ian sees him sometimes, but Ian’s older and working now, and not around much anymore. He doesn’t play with Carl that much anymore.  Ian has his own friends doing whatever it is teenagers get to do that Carl isn’t allowed to. Ian doesn’t need Carl because no one needs Carl and Ian is leaving him too. Where’s Lip? Why isn’t he there? Why did Fiona kick him out If Lip were here none of this would have happened because Lip is too smart to let that happen right… He squeezes his eyes shut and when he opens them...</i>
</p><p>Carl came crashing back to the reality that he’s 19 years old on his girlfriend’s kitchen floor. His mom is dead. Fiona is gone. He realized he was 19 but felt like he was 9 still and he couldn’t breathe. </p><p>When did he stop breathing? Is he dying too? Why couldn’t he see anything either? It’s just a smear of shapes and colors. He blinked a few times to try to clear his vision but it didn’t work. He pulled his knees to his chest and shut his eyes, slightly rocking back and forth. </p><p>He opened his eyes after what felt like hours and Sylvia was sitting on the floor across from him, looking worried. Her lips were moving but Carl couldn’t hear anything. He glances back at the counter with the towel and knives, expecting to see Monica but there’s nothing on the floor other than a cardboard box. </p><p>Sylvia caught his eye and he stared, unable to look away. She was breathing exaggeratedly and motioning at Carl like he should copy. She was saying something too, but he couldn’t hear it but he could lip read his name. So he tried to copy her. His breath slowed down and his chest started to hurt less. He felt his ears pop, and sound flooded back in. It was like they had been clogged. </p><p>“Great, keep breathing like that,” Sylvia said, still sitting across from him. He could hear himself breathing slowly but loudly. Kids yelled from down the street, the sound coming in through the screen door. He felt like the truck that just blew by the house had run him over. What the fuck happened?</p><p>“Sylvia?” He said nervously. He winced at his hoarse voice. He glanced down. He was on the floor. He pushed himself up and stood with shaky legs, trying to get them to cooperate with his desire to move. Sylvia stood up and grabbed his arm and dragged him the short distance from the kitchen chair she’d pulled out earlier. She pushed his hair off of his sweaty forehead gently.</p><p>“What happened?” He asked, feeling like he was going to start shaking again. He looked wildly around the room.</p><p>“Hey,” Sylvia said gently. She sat in a chair and pulled it so they were facing each other, knees touching. “You’re okay. You just had a panic attack.”</p><p>Carl felt like he was going to throw up. Fuck.</p><p>“Carl,” Sylvia said. “Look at me.” He pushed his eyes to look at hers. “Keep breathing. Don’t get worked up again. You’re okay. You’re safe.”</p><p>The back of his shirt was sticking to him and he shifted uncomfortably. He was so sweaty but so cold. Carl copied Sylvia’s breathing for a few minutes. He felt really small, like a kid in a giant shopping mall who got separated from their mom. Except he didn’t have a mom, he had a big sister.</p><p>“How are you feeling?” Sylvia asked, looking at him intensely.</p><p>“Cold,” he mumbled. She got up and came back with the blanket from the couch. She wrapped it around him like a shawl and he clutched at it. She filled up a cup of water and gave it to him. He slowly drank it in silence. </p><p>He watched Sylvia stare at him, xraying and thinking hard. “What?” He asked.</p><p>She raised her eyebrows at him. “I just,” she started and then stopped. “Feel better?” </p><p>It had been like less than ten minutes since she just asked him how he was feeling but he wasn’t cold anymore. He nodded. He bent down to scratch his ankle and when he sat back up, his eyes landed on the knife and the dish towel. He looked at the floor underneath it, almost expecting Monica to be right there. He looked back up at the counter and couldn’t look away. Even though he could feel himself getting worked up again, and he really didn’t want to deal with another panic attack.</p><p>He wasn’t sure how long he stared at the counter transfixed, but Sylvia came into his vision. She grabbed the items and shoved them into a drawer. He blinked. He suddenly really wanted to go home and check that Monica wasn’t on the floor there too. What the fuck was wrong with him? He knew she wasn’t. She’d been dead for almost 4 years, and she didn’t even fucking die from hurting herself, which Carl always found shocking. So there was no way she was there, but he wanted to be around his annoying family. </p><p>“I wanna go home,” he mumbled. He shrugged the blanket off. It fell on the floor. He reached down and picked it up. He stood up to fold it. His knees shook and he grabbed the back of the chair for a second.</p><p>“Let’s call someone to come pick you up,” Sylvia said, taking the blanket from him.</p><p>Oh god, no. He didn’t want to bother anyone, he just wanted to go home. He’d normally walk home anyway. It wasn’t like it would take long. Getting a ride was ridiculous.</p><p>He shook his head now. “No. I can walk.” </p><p>She bit her lip like she wanted to argue with him. “Okay, I’ll walk you back.” </p><p>“No,” Carl said, feeling irritated. He could get home by himself. He was fucking fine. </p><p>She raised her eyebrows at him, and pulled her phone from her back pocket. “Fine. Then I’ll just call Mickey.” </p><p>Carl didn’t even bother asking how she had Mickey’s number. “Jesus! No! I’m fine!” He yelled. </p><p>She crossed her arms and just stared at him, silently challenging him. He looked away and went to the door. He made it without stumbling. He shoved his feet in his shoes. To his surprise, she didn’t say anything as he pushed the door open and headed to the sidewalk. </p><p>Carl glanced behind him. She was standing on the porch watching him. He managed to walk the whole block to the street. Every time he looked behind him, she was there following him in the distance. He huffed. A car blared music, shaking the whole ground, down the street. Carl froze. He looked around him and felt like he couldn’t take another step, so he just kept standing there. </p><p>He rubbed his arms, and stared at his feet. Rapid footsteps approached him, and Sylvia pulled her arm around his waist. He fought the urge to look at her. He didn’t want to see her “told you so” expression. </p><p>“Come on,” she told him, starting to slightly push him down the street and onto the next sidewalk. He felt like he was in a daze until he stubbed his foot on a piece of uneven sidewalk and pulled roughly away from her.</p><p>She sighed in frustration. “What is your problem?” </p><p>“I don’t need you to walk me down the fucking street,” Carl snapped. </p><p>“Okay, let me phrase this differently,” Sylvia said irritated, stepping forward to close the distance Carl had created when he backed up. “You’re being an asshole every time someone tries to help you lately. So what is the deal?” </p><p>“I am not,” Carl argued back.</p><p>“You literally got mad at me yesterday for taking something from you before you dropped it because your hands were full,” she countered. She put her hands on her hips.</p><p>“I don’t remember that,” Carl said back.</p><p>“Oh even better,” Sylvia said derisively. “You don’t even notice yourself doing it.” </p><p>“I.. I’m not. I mean I am.” He didn’t even know what he was so he stopped. He felt a flash of anger, remembering something. “Why do you have Mickey’s phone number?” </p><p>She looked confused at the change of direction. A group of kids pushed past them on the sidewalk. Carl realized they’d just stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.</p><p>“Because he gave it to me,” Sylvia said, like it was obvious.</p><p>“But why?” Carl pressed.</p><p>“I don’t know. He said I should have it in case something happened. I don’t know,” Sylvia said.</p><p>“You do know,” Carl shook his head, not buying it. “When did he give it to you?”</p><p>“No! I don’t fucking know!” Sylvia yelled. “And like a week ago.”</p><p>Carl’s mind was spinning. “So what, you text him daily updates about me or some shit?”</p><p><i>“What?</i>” She said sharply. “No, I’ve never even texted or called him. Do you hear yourself right now?”</p><p>Carl huffed. He suddenly didn’t want to go home anymore but didn’t know where else to go so he started walking forward, anger keeping him steady. He heard her huff too and started following him again. She tapped his arm. “Can you listen to me for a second?” </p><p>“I can walk and listen at the same time,” Carl shot back. He didn’t even really know what the fuck he was angry about. She was right, he was being ridiculous. </p><p>“Fine,” she said. She walked next to him instead of slightly behind him. Why was it taking so long to get home? “He didn’t say it to me, but he seemed kind of worried about you.” </p><p>“If you breathe and Mickey likes like a smidge of you at all, he worries,” Carl said back. “That means nothing.” </p><p>“Didn’t we just spend two weeks having this argument with me?” She said. </p><p>Yeah. They had. Carl had spent two weeks arguing with her to go get help and she wouldn’t fucking do it. “That’s different,” he said.</p><p>“How?” She asked, throwing her hands up. </p><p>“Because you have an actual reason where you need help. You’re literally diagnosed with shit,” Carl said back. He winced. That sounded really awful. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” he started.<br/>She looked at him, and actually looked angry and not just frustrated. Fuck. She cut him off “Well, if you’d let someone help you, you probably have one too,” she yelled. As soon as it left her mouth she looked horrified at herself. “Carl…”</p><p>“<i>What</i>?” Carl shouted, sharply. “<i>What?</i>” </p><p>She stopped walking. </p><p>“Sylvia!” Franny screamed delightedly, running towards her. </p><p>Carl looked around, they were back at his house. Lip and Tammi had Freddie and Franny outside with chalk in the front. Lip and Tammi were staring at him. They’d probably heard the whole thing as they walked closer.</p><p>Carl ignored them, pushed past them, and opened the door. Thankfully, no one else was downstairs. He could hear Ian and Mickey bickering about something quietly upstairs. Liam was probably up there doing homework too. </p><p>He went to the fridge and pulled out a beer. He threw the cap onto the counter. The front door slammed. The brief seconds the door had been open he heard Franny and Sylvia laughing. LIp came into view, and considered him. Carl ignored him.</p><p>“What’s going on?” Lip asked. He opened the fridge for a water bottle.</p><p>“Nothing,” Carl growled. </p><p>“Didn’t sound like nothing,” Lip responded.</p><p>Carl rolled his eyes. “It’s nothing because it’s not your fucking business.” </p><p>Lip was quiet for a second before shrugging. “Okay.” He went back outside.</p><p>Carl wandered around the living room before dropping onto the couch. He couldn’t keep his thoughts straight. What the hell had just happened? What was he so mad about before? What the fuck? Did she think he was crazy? Was he really being an asshole? Why did Lip just let him off so easy?</p><p>“Hey,” Mickey said, clapping him on the shoulder. Ian and Mickey went to the kitchen and started pulling out stuff for dinner. Carl blinked and Mickey was suddenly standing next to the couch. </p><p>“What’s with you?” </p><p>“Nothing,” Carl mumbled and flipped Mickey off for extra effect.</p><p>“Wow, okay,” Mickey snorted. He went back to the kitchen and started talking to Ian about how much they needed to make tonight. </p><p>The front door opened and everyone piled back through. Franny was clinging to Sylvia’s hand. “Hey,” Tami said, going into the kitchen and dropping Fred into his high chair. “I invited Sylvia to stay for dinner.”</p><p>Carl rolled his eyes. He felt everyone look at him and then back to each other. “Great!” Ian finally said, cheerfully. </p><p>“Yeah, great,” Carl said sarcastically, going out the door everyone had just come in from. They’d miss a piece of blue chalk when cleaning up. He picked it up and sat on the concrete pathway with it, drawing random lines and connecting them together. The door opened and shut. Sylvia’s purple sneakers came into view. Then she sat down across from him, looking at him nervously. </p><p>He sighed. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say. He wanted to be left alone. He kept playing with the chalk. “What the fuck was that?” He suddenly asked.</p><p>Sylvia sighed. “We both kinda said some shit, there, huh?” </p><p>Carl rolled his eyes. The chalk broke in half in his hand. He frustratedly threw the pieces into the grass. His hands were covered in blue. He tried wiping them off on the grass.</p><p>“What happened in the kitchen?” Sylvia asked, gently. </p><p>He looked up and bit his lip. He was kind of expecting her to start yelling again, since he just ignored her and that always pissed her off. Which was fucking ironic, because she’d barely said anything to him the other week when she wasn’t feeling well, and Carl hadn’t gotten pissed about it because he understood it even though it was frustrating. <br/>What had happened in the kitchen? Well he thought he’d just watched his mother try to kill herself again in front of him as if he went back in time and was standing there. He didn’t understand what the hell that was. He didn’t want to start thinking about this again. He shrugged. “I don’t know.”</p><p>Lip came outside, and ruffled Carl’s head. “You guys good?”</p><p>Well they clearly weren’t so why the fuck was Lip out here?</p><p>Sylvia glanced at Lip and then Carl. She bit her lip and continued the conversation, clearly trying to use Lip to her advantage to get information or something. “You seemed pretty freaked out by the dish towel and the knife,” she said quietly. </p><p>Lip glanced sharply at her. “What?” Lip sat down and put his hand on Carl’s shoulder. “What?” He repeated.</p><p>“I freaked out,” Carl mumbled, embarrassed. </p><p>“What do you mean?” Lip asked him.</p><p>Carl glanced at Sylvia and said nothing. She took the hint and started talking. “Uh, we were in the kitchen. I was putting away some stuff. There was a knife and a dish towel on the counter. He just kept staring at it until he had a panic attack.” </p><p>Lip crinkled his eyebrows at him, trying to figure out what the hell that meant. His eyebrows rose in realization. “Shit, Carl,” Lip said. “That made you think of Monica?” </p><p>Carl turned red. Lip hadn’t even been there but heard the story enough times that he basically knew everything everyone else knew. “Yeah,” he muttered. </p><p>Sylvia just watched them silently. </p><p>“Jesus I haven’t thought of that in forever,” Lip said. </p><p>Carl felt a flash of annoyance. “Good for you. You weren’t even there. I was a kid.” </p><p>Lip gave him a look that clearly said knock it off but said “I know,” gently. Lip reached out to clap his shoulder but Carl scowled and shifted away. </p><p>Lip looked hurt. “You don’t gotta be such a dick every time someone tries to help you.”</p><p>“That’s what I was fucking saying” Sylvia muttered, playing with her shoelace. </p><p>“Yeah well, you’re 10 fucking years too late,” Carl snarled. He stood up.</p><p>Lip’s eyes widened and then he stared at Carl looking incredibly sad. “Carl…”</p><p>Carl shook his head. He had to leave. Now. Or all of the feelings from when he was a kid he’d just been forced to feel again were going to spill out everywhere, making a huge mess. They weren’t rational. They were just the stupid feelings of a 9 year old. There’s nothing Lip could have done being there or not that probably would have changed anything. Lip was still basically a kid then too. </p><p>He pushed the gate open. </p><p>“Where are you going?” Lip asked, standing up.</p><p>Carl stared at him. “Enjoy your dinner.” He let the gate slam shut. He didn't look back but heard Lip say to Sylvia “just let him go.”</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>He came back an hour later, sweaty. He’d started running once he had been clear of the house. He’d ran until his muscles burned and he couldn’t think of anything else, and then turned around. </p><p>Carl pushed the door open slowly. Everyone was still sitting at the table in the middle of dinner. Sylvia was paying rapt attention to Franny babbling away but when the door shut and her eyes landed on him, she lost focus. He stood there awkwardly. He didn’t know what he should do. Go hide? He was kind of hungry. </p><p>“Hey, we saved some for you,” Ian called to him. </p><p>Carl walked over slowly and awkwardly sat in the empty seat at the foot of the table next to Lip. He stared at his plate. Lip took it away and filled it with some pasta and put it back down. Fucking Ian and Mickey always made fucking pasta. Not like he could get annoyed, he always ordered pizza or shoved frozen chicken nuggets into the oven.<br/>Conversation resumed around him. Franny had Sylvia’s attention again across the table, but Sylvia kept glancing at him while he pushed his food around. Lip draped his arm casually against the back of Carl’s chair. Carl almost rolled his eyes because he didn’t know who Lip thought he was fooling.</p><p> Lip’s fingers grazed the back of his neck. “Eat,” he said so quietly he doubted the other side could hear him over Franny. He started mechanically putting food in his mouth and swallowing. Ian stood up and refilled his water. He lightly pulled Carl’s head towards him and kissed his hair. Carl wrinkled in his nose which made Ian laugh a little bit as he sat back down.</p><p>Carl caught Sylvia looking at him again. Lip leaned slightly towards Carl’s ear, talking only so Carl could hear him. “She wants to talk to you. You gonna let her?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Carl said.</p><p>“She cares about you,” Lip continued talking into his ear. Carl looked over at him questioningly. Lip shrugged. “Just saying, that maybe you could try being less of an ass.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Part Twenty Four</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Carl and Sylvia realize something important. Debbie comes back to deal with her DUI and stir the pot. Carl starts spiraling, struggling to keep pushing stuff down.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>**Carl vomits because I make him do that a lot but no description it just basically says Carl vomits**</p><p> </p><p>Okay, Carl was already spiraling, but now we're like officially in "Carl spirals" part of the story. As in, Carl finds it harder to keep pushing stuff down. Sorry that this is kind of sad. </p><p>When I paste the writing into the html box it hasn't been saving my spacing lately, so I have to go back and do it again. I've probably missed some, sorry about that.</p><p>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Carl had quickly grabbed Sylvia before Franny could try making any plans with her, and brought her downstairs. Now that he had done that, he didn’t know what he was supposed to say.</p><p>She sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry, Carl.”</p><p>“For what?” Carl asked. He was the one who’d been being an ass.</p><p>“For saying…”</p><p>Oh right. “That you think I’m crazy?” He said harshly. He internally grimaced. She was trying to apologize what the fuck was he doing? </p><p>“You’re not crazy,” Sylvia said quietly, and with this weird air of patience. “But I had no right to say that to you, when that’s your business.”</p><p>“What is my business?” Carl asked. </p><p>“Your medical information. I’m not a doctor,” Sylvia responded.</p><p>Carl shrugged. He didn’t really know how he felt about any of it except confused and embarrassed, and that ultimately had nothing to do with Sylvia. He didn’t feel like arguing again about it when he didn’t even know what he’d be arguing about. But if he wanted to figure it out, he’d have to suck it up and hear it.</p><p>“Why’d you say that?” Carl asked, twisting his fingers. He sat down next to her on the bed. </p><p>“Because I was annoyed with you,” Sylvia responded.</p><p>“No, why do you think I’d have a diagnosis too?” Carl clarified. </p><p>She turned slightly so their shoulders and knees were touching. Sylvia sighed. “If you really want the answer to that question, then you can’t get all pissed about the answer. You asked.” </p><p>“Fine,” Carl grumbled. “That’s fair.”</p><p>“I know you’ve been saying all of this stuff is new to you, but I’m getting the impression that it’s really not. It just hasn’t happened in a while so you forgot about and you hid it from everyone else before. You push shit so far down it’s like it’s new every time it comes up,” Sylvia said.</p><p>Carl’s stomach twisted. Seriously, how the fuck did she always figure out this shit? He didn’t know what the fuck to say. He also didn’t want to acknowledge she was right.<br/>
“You’ve had a panic attack before now. You’ve thought about all of the bad things that have happened to you and your family, and felt like you had no control over when you thought these things. You’ve had nightmares before,” she said patiently, looking at him. “Am I wrong?” </p><p>Why the fuck did she have to bring this shit up? Why the fuck did he ask her this? He’d almost forgotten about all of the months after juvie and Nick, trying to get out of the game, where he was losing his shit, but no one ever knew because there was so much other shit going on and he never said anything. A lot of them weren’t even consistently living at home by that point.</p><p>He shook his head. She was not wrong. She nodded at the confirmation she was right.</p><p>“There’s something going on here, Carl. That you have somehow managed to just keep pushing down and it’s not letting you do that anymore. Something you need help with.” She bit her lip, and looked at him warily. “I’m not saying this to say there’s something wrong with you. I’m just saying that this is bigger than you convince yourself it is not.”</p><p>Carl felt numbness wash over him and his brain disconnect slightly from the moment. He got under his blankets and pulled them over his head. He didn’t care that he looked ridiculous. He knew he had to say sorry for being an ass but he couldn’t get himself to do it. </p><p>“And you’ve shut down,” she announced to the room, sighing.</p><p>“Sorry,” he muttered. </p><p>“It’s okay. That was a lot to bring up.”</p><p>“Sorry for being an ass when you help me,” he whispered. He pulled his head out from underneath the covers to look at her. </p><p>“You’re not being an ass right now, you’re just overwhelmed,” Sylvia told him.</p><p>“I meant before,” Carl said.</p><p>She smiled softly. “I know.” She looked at him hesitantly, like she was making some huge decision that would change everything. </p><p>She pulled back the sheets on the empty side of the bed. “Can I…?”</p><p>Carl's eyes widened but he nodded. They’d never laid in bed together, or done anything more intimate than cuddling on the couch. And that just seemed like some sort of boundary that she’d created for herself and it didn’t bother him, so he just let it be.</p><p>She looked kind of nervous but he didn’t know how to make her feel better about it, and honestly, even if he did, he didn’t really have it in him to do anything other than lay there. She got under the covers and slid down slowly. They were facing each other, their eyes connecting.</p><p>She reached her hand out and left it halfway between them. He slowly put his hand out to meet hers. She wrapped his hand in hers. He blinked slowly, staring at their linked hands. For some reason, Carl had butterflies going ape shit in his stomach. This felt way more intimate than sex ever had been with anyone. He was scared to move wrong and break whatever was happening.</p><p>He looked at her face. She was staring at their hands. Carl realized that she looked scared too, which somehow made whatever they were doing right now, an even bigger deal than it was a moment ago.</p><p>She gently released his hand, and scooted closer, carefully watching him to see if he was okay with that. He moved slightly closer too, trying to convey that he was fine. His brain didn’t seem to be working right to form words.</p><p>Sylvia bit her lip and brought her hand up to his face, and used her thumb to wipe his tears that he didn’t even realize had fallen. God he was becoming such a fucking pussy. He almost impulsively pushed himself off the bed, but she started whispering and he froze because she was crying too.</p><p>He should probably reach out and wipe her tears, but he was too transfixed and overwhelmed by whatever was happening right now and earlier.</p><p>She was gently rubbing up and down in cheek, to his ear, and in his hair. “You’re so good,” she whispered to him. “You’re so strong and so kind.” She smiled softly at him.<br/>
There were so many things Carl wanted to say back but he couldn’t get himself to do more than watch her with wide eyes. She suddenly looked so nervous that she looked kinda green, and he snapped out of it a little bit.</p><p>“Are you okay?”</p><p>“I think I’m in love with you.”</p><p>They said at the same time and stared at each other.</p><p>“What?” Carl breathed.\</p><p>She glared at him but he could tell she was trying to cover up how scared she was saying that. “You heard me.” </p><p>“Holy shit. I think I’m in love with you too,” Carl said back, his voice cracking. God could he be more of a fucking soft asshole.</p><p>“Really?” She said so quietly into the space between them but that they were unconsciously closing.</p><p>He smirked at her. “You heard me.” </p><p>She shoved his foot away from her, smiling. “Asshole.” She kissed him.</p><p>Then to Carl’s surprise, she hesitantly deepened the kiss waiting for reciprocation, and Carl hesitantly gave it to her. Not because he didn’t want to but because based on the fact that he felt himself getting hard. But because he had no idea where she was taking this and didn’t want to do something wrong. She’s pulled him to her chest and she runs her hands through his hair and he kind of just moved a hand around her back because he didn’t know where this was  going and fuck he’d almost completely hard and he didn’t want to scare and…</p><p>She pulled back. Carl looked at her nervously but she was smiling until she saw his face. “What’s wrong?” </p><p>“I uh.” Carl said, backing away. He grabbed a pillow and put it over his lap.</p><p>She smirked at him, realization spreading across her face. “Oh.” </p><p>He turned red, probably redder than he’s ever turned in his life. Fucking Elmo red. “Sorry.” </p><p>She smiled at him and shrugged. “It’s okay. I’m sorry we…” She trailed off and bit her lip.</p><p>“No hey, there’s no reason to be sorry,” he said gently. He basically calmed himself down enough that he was barely hard so he moved towards her and tucked a strand of her hand behind her ear.</p><p>“That was nice though,” she said, looking kind of hesitant about admitting it. </p><p>Carl grinned. “It was.”</p><p>She smiled looking relieved that he felt the same way. He didn’t mean to but he yawned, which was really fucking bad timing. </p><p>“Feel a little better?” She asked. She smirked at his yawn.</p><p>He wasn’t hiding under the sheets anymore or really thinking about anything other than her kissing him silly. He nodded. </p><p>“If you think I’m done talking about it though, you’re sorely mistaken,” she said, raising her eyebrows.</p><p>He sighed. “I can’t do any…”<br/>
She cut him off. “Not right now. I meant in general.”</p><p>“Oh,” Carl said relieved. “Okay,” he said, sounding less relaxed. He yawned again and rubbed his eyes. He looked up at her through his eyelashes. “You staying here?”</p><p>“If you want me to,” she said. He nodded. “Okay but I need to borrow something. I’m not sleeping in these fucking jeans.” </p><p>They found a t-shirt and shorts that she kind of fit in since she was taller. They got ready for bed. Je was just about to turn off the light when he realized something. She was already underneath the covers while he just stood there.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” She asked.</p><p>“You shouldn’t stay,” he said.</p><p>“Why?” Sylvia said, looking confused. </p><p>“I...I might wake you up or something,” Carl said. Hoping she got the I might wake you up screaming my head off like a fucking idiot because he couldn’t get himself to say that out loud.</p><p>She rolled her eyes. “It’s fine.”</p><p>Carl bit his lip and continued to stand there with his hand on the light switch.</p><p>“If I decide I’m fine with it, then I’m fine with it and you don’t have to worry about it.” She raised her eyebrows at him, daring him to argue with her on something she chose on her own. </p><p>He didn’t. He shut off the light and climbed into bed. He laid on his side facing her. She turned off her back and faced him. The familiar dread of a night filled with nightmares settled over him, even with Sylvia laying next to him. Carl was just going to let her fall asleep and then he’d just stay there awake. That was his best bet for the night. Sylvia scooted closer and put her hand in his hair, and started petting it.</p><p>He glared. Everyone always was fucking petting him like a cat and he fell asleep every fucking time. “Fuck you.”</p><p>She laughed but didn’t stop. “Go to sleep.” </p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>Carl woke up to the sounds of his family yelling which was like waking up breathing. He turned to roll over but then he heard Debbie talk, and he sat up. He glanced down and Sylvia was smiling at him, her phone in her hand.</p><p>“Did you sleep?” He asked her.</p><p>“Yeah, I only woke up like five minutes ago when that started.” She jutted her head toward the ceiling. </p><p>“Fuck,” he put his head in his hands. </p><p>“I don’t think you woke up at all though,” she said smiling. </p><p>He thought about it. “I don’t think I did either. He sat there trying to figure out how he felt with this weird occurrence of uninterrupted sleep. His head wasn’t already threatening to pound behind his eye for once. Maybe he’d be okay today. </p><p>“Where the fuck is Carl?” Debbie yelled upstairs. </p><p>Carl groaned. Or not.</p><p>“Shut the fuck up,” Lip said. “He’s sleeping.” </p><p>Carl hadn’t realized Lip was upstairs. He sighed and stared at the wall across from him. There was a little window near the ceiling.</p><p>“How about you boost me up and I make a run for it?” Carl said pointing at the window, only half joking. </p><p>Sylvia smiled but didn’t get a chance to respond. The door swung open and Debbie yelled “Carl!” down it.</p><p>“Jesus, I’m up, fucking hell,” he yelled back. He heard Lip in the background say “what the fuck Debbie?” If he didn’t get up those stairs soon she was totally going to storm down here. </p><p>He pushed off the bed and walked to the stairs. He glanced at the bed. Sylvia was still sitting on it. “You coming? There’s food up there too.” </p><p>“Uh, if you want me to, kind of sounds like a private family argument,” Sylvia said awkwardly. </p><p>Carl laughed. “Oh, no the whole street is already listening.” He held out his hand. She got up and took it and he led her upstairs. </p><p>They came up just as Mickey entered the kitchen. “What the fuck is with all the yelling?” </p><p>Lip sighed and jerked his head at Debbie. Mickey scowled and then noticed Carl and Sylvia standing there.</p><p>“Oh it’s Snow White!” He said grinning. Mickey wiggled his eyebrows at Carl. Carl rolled his eyes.</p><p>“Stop it,” Ian said coming into the kitchen, lightly whacking Mickey’s arm. </p><p>Carl took them to go find food. They ended up with the last pack of poptarts which Mickey did not look pleased about. Whatever. He’d get Mickey more later. It’s not like they were exclusively his anyway.</p><p>“Oh hey, Debs,” Ian said, surprised. He just noticed she was there.</p><p>Carl and Sylvia sat down at the table. Sylvia was nervously looking at everyone. He probably should have just offered to walk her home and buy her breakfast instead of dragging her into this. He was an idiot and it was too late anyway, they were already sitting there.</p><p>“Wow, at least one person says hi to me,” Debbie snarked in response. </p><p>“Well you didn’t really say hi to anyone else, just started fucking yelling,” Lip pointed out. “Coffee?” He asked Carl and Sylvia. They nodded and Lip put two mugs in front of them.</p><p>“Don’t wanna offer me any?” She said to Lip, crossing her arms. </p><p>“Jesus Christ,” Lip said. “Here we go.” </p><p>Carl watched Ian glance around him, and as always, he tried to diffuse the tension. “It’s nice to see you, Debs. What are you doing here?”<br/>
“I live here,” she said rolling her eyes.</p><p>“Could have fooled me,” Mickey said and went upstairs. </p><p>“I uh, got my blood results back,” Debbie revealed the real reason for her visit. They all stared at her. She sighed. “It was positive for being drunk.”</p><p>Like it was going to be anything else.</p><p>“Okay,” Ian said. “So now what?” </p><p>“I talk to a lawyer at 2,” Debbie said, moving around the kitchen and grabbing her own coffee. She looked at Carl. “Maybe you could--” </p><p>“Carl’s off today,” Ian said, starting to look annoyed for the first time.</p><p>“Great!” Debbie said smiling. </p><p>“No, he’s <i>off</i> today. He’s not required to go into work to help you,” Ian snapped.</p><p>Carl could feel Sylvia looking at him. “It’s fine,” he mumbled. </p><p>“Carl,” Ian started but got caught off by Debbie shrieking. </p><p>Mickey and Franny came down the steps laughing. “Oh my god, what is she wearing? She can’t go to school like that!” </p><p>“Mommy,” Franny asked hesitantly, looking back at Mickey.</p><p>Debbie forced a fake sugary smile on her face. “Franny! Come here!” </p><p>Franny tentatively went over to Debbie after getting a nod from Mickey. She let Debbie hug her but didn’t really return the hug back. Carl felt his gut twist. Well, that wasn’t going to go over well with Debbie even if Franny had every right to not welcome her back with open arms.</p><p>Debbie seemed oblivious, as she held onto Franny, stroking her hair. “What is she wearing?” She said again to Mickey.</p><p>“Uh, clothes?” Mickey said, giving her his classic “are you fucking dumb” face.</p><p>“They don’t match,” Debbie said, scowling. </p><p>Carl noticed for the first time that they really did not match. She had on a tie dye t-shirt with plaid pants on. She’d been dressing like this almost every day so it took Carl a while to notice it.</p><p>“So? It’s what she picked out,” Mickey said, shrugging. </p><p>“You let her walk around like this?” Debbie said incredulously, letting go of Franny who immediately ran back to Mickey and clutched his hand. She narrowed her eyes at them.</p><p>“It’s what she wanted,” Mickey said, still looking bewildered about the whole thing. “It made her happy.”</p><p>“She looks ridiculous,” Debbie said again.</p><p>“Jesus Christ,” Lip said from the chair at the counter. “If you were actually here, maybe you could have some say in what she wears. The clothes are clean. There’s nothing inappropriate about them. They fit her. She’s fucking fine.”</p><p>Carl sighed. He was not mentally prepared for listening to a whole argument between Debbie and Mickey about Franny’s fucking outfits, like that was the fucking issue here. He felt Sylvia put her arm around his chair and grazed his neck lightly. He looked at her and smiled, mouthing “sorry.” She shrugged.</p><p>Debbie was still going on about Franny’s clothes. Carl got annoyed and snapped. “Can we move on from Franny’s fucking clothes please? It’s really not important considering no one knows where the hell you’ve been,” Carl scowled at her.</p><p>He saw Mickey herd Franny into the living room with a bowl of cereal, and the TV was turned on. </p><p>“Seriously, Debs,” Ian agreed. “Where the fuck have you been?”</p><p>She rolled her eyes. “None of your business.” She turned back to Carl. “Now since you’re off today, you can meet me there at 2.”</p><p>Ian huffed in frustration. “No, I just fucking told you he is not going to work.” </p><p>“He doesn’t seem to care,” Debbie said, raising her eyebrows at him. </p><p>Jesus fuck. Carl closed his eyes and put his head in his hands, elbows leaning on the table. Carl didn’t know what the fuck to say, and Debbie as always, plowed on, and took a sharp turn into unnecessary cruelty. “Or did you get fired for being so fucking stupid that you couldn’t tell the difference between a toy car and a gun some little black boy was holding? You don’t give a fuck about Liam!” </p><p>“What the fuck Debbie?” Liam said harshly, at the bottom of the stairs, dressed for school. </p><p>They all stared at Liam shocked. He’d walked in at the most awkward moment and he’d literally just said fuck. As far as Carl knew, Liam had only never said that to him when Ian was in the hospital two months ago. No one had ever heard Liam sound that harsh in his life. Carl wanted to throw up or run out the door, but his body wasn’t cooperating with this desire. He was frozen with his chin in his hand, sitting at the table. <i>You don’t give a fuck about Liam</i> rang through his head over and over.</p><p>Franny ran into the kitchen confused by the silence and looked around. She ran over to Carl and tried to climb in his lap. “What?” He said in confusion. She tugged on his shirt again and he snapped out of it enough to pull her on his lap. </p><p>She touched his face with her little hand with the chipping pink nail polish on her nails. They were all staring in silence at Franny now. Liam sat on the bottom of the steps. He had the right idea. Don’t get in the middle or you won’t be able to run for it if you need to.</p><p>“Is mommy being mean to you Uncle Carl?” She said looking at him with a frown. Carl choked on his own spit. Mickey snickered in the back but was shut up by Ian’s glare. Franny turned around and looked at her mom. “You shouldn’t be mean to him.” </p><p>“Franny,” Carl said gently. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it. Go back to the TV.”</p><p>Tami walked through the backdoor into the kitchen with Fred and stopped short at the tension in the room. “Wow, okay.” She glanced at Franny in Carl’s lap.</p><p>“Hey Fran,” Tami said, “Let’s go outside and play with Freddie.” </p><p>Franny was clutching Carl’s shirt and still frowning. “No.”</p><p>Sylvia suddenly stood up. “Hey, why don’t I come with you?” </p><p>If Carl hadn’t felt in love with Sylvia before, he was definitely in love now. Franny’s eyes lit up and she hopped off Carl's lap. “Thanks,” they all murmured to her and she followed Franny and Tami out the front door.</p><p>“You too,” Lip said, pointing at Liam and then the door.</p><p>“No way,” Liam said standing up. “You can’t just kick me out. I’m not a baby.” </p><p>Lip sighed. “No, but you’re a kid and this isn’t your problem to worry about.”</p><p>Liam came over and pulled out a chair, before sitting in it. He glared at Lip and then at Debbie who had gone silent for the last few minutes. She looked shocked.<br/>
“It is my problem. She can’t just talk to Carl like that. And the second she started talking about little black boys, and saying Carl doesn’t care about me, it became my problem!”</p><p>Liam shouted. Ian was blinking in surprise at Liam. Mickey was just standing against the fridge, smirking, like he knew Liam had it in him all along. </p><p>“Okay, fine,” Lip said slowly.</p><p>“Anyway,” Debbie said loudly, completely ignoring the shit she had just stirred up. “You’re going to meet me there at 2,” she pointed at Carl. </p><p>In the last few minutes Carl had started to feel really off. He was sweating but was kind of cold and the poptart he had just eaten was not settling in his stomach. What happened to how much better he felt when he woke up?</p><p>“No,” Ian said again, drawing out the “o” in frustration. </p><p>“What are you? His keeper?” Debbie shot at Ian.</p><p>“You’re not his boss either,” Ian snapped back.</p><p>“Carl?” Debbie said, turning to him and crossing her arms. Everyone stared at him. </p><p>He swallowed a few times. “I.. don’t feel good,” he muttered. He sounded confused.</p><p>“Oh please,” Debbie started but as if Carl’s body had enough of Debbie’s shit, his stomach rolled and Carl crashed into the bathroom before throwing up. </p><p>Carl felt Ian’s big hand on his back and saw a flash of his hair. He sat down on the floor, spent and really fucking confused why he felt so bad out of nowhere. He hadn’t eaten anything weird yesterday. If it was the pizza then everyone else would be sick now too. Ian was crouching in front of him, palming his forehead.</p><p>“You feel kinda warm,” he muttered, frowning at Carl. </p><p>Carl’s ears were ringing which kinda made it hard for his brain to react. Liam came into the bathroom holding out the thermometer. Carl stared at Liam the whole time Ian took his temperature. </p><p>“Shit, Carl,” Ian muttered. “You gotta stop getting sick.”</p><p>“What’s it say?” LIam asked. He tried to look over Ian’s shoulder to see the thermometer. </p><p>“100.5, so not too bad, but it’s not good,” Ian sighed.</p><p>“It’s because he doesn’t sleep and spends all of his time worrying about everything,” Liam said matter of factly. </p><p>Carl groaned. Ian pushed Carl’s sweaty hair from his face. “Okay, we’ll talk about it later,” Ian said, looking pointedly at Liam. “I’ll be right back.” </p><p>He watched Ian talk in a low voice to Lip and Mickey while they kept glancing at him. Carl turned away. Liam had sat on the floor next to him.</p><p>“I..” Carl said, looking at Liam desperately. “I love you.” He blinked and tears dripped down his face. Being sick always made him way too emotional.</p><p>Liam looked slightly alarmed for a second before schooling his features into calmness and Carl hated that he knew how to do that and he hated that Liam was doing it for him. </p><p>“I know,” Liam said. “She’s just being a jerk, okay? I know.” </p><p>Carl looked at him skeptically but he was too tired to start figuring the sheer complexity of what Debbie had brought up. He didn’t have it in him to sit and analyze the morality of being a cop with a black kid brother, right now.</p><p>Liam tore some toilet paper off a roll, and started wiping Carl’s tears, which almost made Carl cry more. Liam sighed. “Were you this sad when I was little?”</p><p>“What?” Carl asked. What kind of question was that?</p><p>“Everyone acts like this is new, but were you sad before?” Liam asked, searching his face.</p><p>Jesus. Liam, Sylvia, and Mickey should open a psychic shop and tell people if their girlfriend or boyfriend was cheating on them. They saw fucking everything that Carl didn’t even know there was to see.</p><p>Carl shrugged, trying not to show how upsetting this conversation actually was. He couldn’t let it be a big deal. “Sometimes.”</p><p>Liam nodded and looked slightly angry. “And they didn’t know?” He glanced out looking at their older brothers.</p><p>“We weren’t all really around each other that often,” Carl said. “No one really knew what was going on with each other.” Liam was staring at him with big eyes that reminded him of Fiona which made his stomach hurt in a whole new way. He was not going to think about her. “I’m not that sad, buddy.” Carl tried giving Liam a smile.</p><p>Liam grimaced. “Your grinch smile is not very convincing.” </p><p>Carl sighed and closed his eyes. “Sorry.”</p><p>“Are you guys just going to leave him here all day?” Liam said to his brothers, sticking his head out of the bathroom. </p><p>Mickey came over while Ian and Lip kept talking, but they were looking at Debbie right now. The only reason she hadn’t bolted was because Franny had come inside and was talking to her.</p><p>“You gotta get going to school, kid,” Mickey told him.</p><p>Liam looked at Carl reluctantly. “Go,” he said, nodding in a way that he hoped conveyed reassurance. Liam got up and went to the door. Mickey whispered something in Liam’s ear, and he nodded before waving on his way out the door. </p><p>“Woah, what happened?” Sylvia asked. She stood in the bathroom door looking at Carl who was just lazily splayed out on the floor with his back against the wall. </p><p>“I puked,” he said simply. </p><p>“Shit,” Sylvia said. She crouched down, looking worried. “Look, I gotta go to work, I’m sorry.”</p><p>“No, thanks for helping. I’m sorry you got in all of that,” Carl said, trying to look her in the eye but his vision was kinda swimming again.</p><p>She patted his knee. “I’ll check in with you later.” </p><p>“Prince Charming will be fine Snow White,” Mickey told her. </p><p>She flipped him off and MIckey laughed. “I like her,” Mickey said.</p><p>“So glad to have your approval,” Carl said, sarcastically. </p><p>“Ready to get up?” Mickey asked.</p><p>Carl shook his head. “I’m gonna puke again.” </p><p>“Fucking gross,” Mickey grimaced.</p><p>“Hmm,” Carl hummed in agreement.</p><p> </p><p>-- </p><p> </p><p>Lip ended up going with Debbie to the meeting with her lawyer. Tami and Ian hadn’t looked happy about it, and kept trying to talk Lip out of it. Carl never heard exactly what they were saying but Carl always heard that Lip was still going to go. He wasn’t sure what had Tami and Ian worried, but he could guess. Thinking about Lip wanting to drink because of Carl’s crazy shit, made his stomach hurt.</p><p>He blinked. He was laying on the couch with his legs pulled up. Ian sat on the other end. Mickey was puttering around the kitchen. He didn’t remember falling asleep or Ian sitting on the other end watching TV.</p><p>Carl looked at the TV. Some British guy was narrating something with zebras and lions on the screen.</p><p>“What the fuck are you watching?” Carl asked Ian. His voice was gravelly.</p><p>Ian jumped a little and looked at him. “Uh, some nature documentary. The guy’s voice is fun to listen to. How are you feeling?”</p><p>Carl shrugged. “The same.” Not better. Not worse.</p><p>Ian took his temperature. “It’s 99.8 now so it’s going down, and is barely a fever at this point. Hopefully it keeps going down and isn’t a problem tomorrow,” Ian told him.</p><p>“I don’t know what happened. It was fucking weird. I was fine when I woke up,” Carl said, watching a zebra run on the TV. </p><p>Ian sighed and turned the TV off. Carl looked at him in confusion. “What did you do that for?” </p><p>“You know Liam is kind of right, don’t you? You are making yourself sick by not sleeping and everything else. Your body can’t keep up with that kind of stress for this long and your immune system goes to hell,” Ian explained. He shifted closer to Carl and put his arm on the couch behind Carl’s head.</p><p>“Oh,” was all Carl could think to say.</p><p>“What’s going on with you, Carl?” Ian asked gently, angling his body even more towards Carl. Ian was looking at him with so much… love, that Carl wanted to just spill his guts right there. He was so fucking tired. Maybe he could just say some of it.</p><p>The door opened with Debbie yelling at Lip. Ian sighed and gave Carl a look that said they’d finish this later. He stood up and brushed the top of Carl’s head. </p><p>“Woah, what the hell?” Ian said, going into the kitchen, trying to diffuse the situation. Carl wondered if Ian ever got tired of trying to play peacekeeper. Carl put his head in his hands and didn’t bother watching. Hearing it was enough.</p><p>“He’s giving me all of this AA crap like I have a problem!” Debbie shouted.</p><p>“Well, do you?” Ian asked after a second. </p><p>“Fuck you,” Debbie said. She rounded back to Lip. “Who are you to be giving me advice?”</p><p>They’d moved closer to the living room now. Lip was saying something calmly to Debbie but Debbie shoved him. Carl heard him back up into the arm chair. Carl looked up alarmed.</p><p>“What the fuck Debbie?” Ian said, pulling her away from Lip. She seemed to have calmed down so Ian let her go before she shoved Lip again and he crashed onto the couch. Lip’s head hit Carl’s nose as he fell. </p><p>“Fuck,” Lip exclaimed, sitting up and turning around to look at Carl. “Fuck,” he said again when he saw Carl’s nose was bleeding.</p><p>Carl was just going to start avoid Debbie because every time she came around he ended up getting beat up.</p><p>“Are you okay?” Carl asked Lip. Lip rolled his eyes and started stuffing tissues into Carl’s hands.</p><p>Carl had honestly forgotten Mickey had been around. Mickey tended to stay out of their bigger fights but he had Debbie in an arm lock in the kitchen while she struggled.</p><p>“Nope, Peppermint Patty, you’re gonna stay right fucking here,” Mickey kept repeating. </p><p>Ian whirled around taking in the scene around him. Carl and Lip were on the couch trying to staunch his bloody nose. Mickey had Debbie in a hold in the kitchen. “Fuck!” He screamed. </p><p>Carl watched him stand in front of Debbie. He thought Ian’s shoulders were shaking from anger, but he was crying.</p><p>“What is wrong with you? Please, please tell me so we can fix it. We’ll help you. We love you,” Ian said, in between sobs.</p><p>Debbie had stopped moving and was staring at Ian in shock but she got over it. “Oh this is love, huh?” Gesturing her head at the situation. </p><p>“You started this, Debs,” Lip said from the couch.</p><p>Mickey looked pained watching Ian cry but he looked reluctant to let Debbie go. Lip got up and squeezed Ian’s shoulder.</p><p>“You need to calm the fuck down. And then we need to talk about what your lawyer said,” Lip said in his “don’t fuck with me” voice. </p><p>Mickey finally let her go while Lip glared pointing at the stairs. She stomped up them like she was still 13, and slammed her door.</p><p>Mickey immediately moved to Ian, hugging him, and petting his hair. Lip just stood there frozen before forcing out, “I need a minute,” and he went out the door. </p><p>Carl just sat there with his bloody nose. And he was so fucking tired. He saw Lip on the phone outside, looking upset through the window. Carl glanced back at Ian and Mickey in the kitchen. Ian had calmed down and was drinking some water. Something slammed into a wall upstairs.</p><p>Carl couldn’t do this shit anymore. Lip and Ian did it over and over again. Fiona had too. But he couldn’t do it because he was the worst of them. He couldn’t do this anymore and he hated himself. And he’d never been more tired in his life.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Part Twenty Five</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sylvia finally gets Carl to do something he should have done a while ago... and it sucks.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>First, I know this has been kind of depressing, and I'm sorry. I debated before publishing the last chapter if I should write something else for a while, but couldn't come up with anything else that would get me where I want this to go.</p><p>Second, in my personal experience, once something knocks open one door of trauma years after the fact, they all start opening and you have no say in it. You drown in it. It's insidious. Things get better but it's not a straight trajectory upwards. The reality is that this is depressing, and is an awful experience to have and watch someone go through. </p><p>Third, there is a happy ending.</p><p>Fourth, I work on this every day. It's like my baby. So thank you for all the comments giving me ideas and encouragement. Thank you for reading!</p><p>Fifth, the timeline and Carl's birthday is incredibly off and made up. All of the medical talk is also inaccurate because I'm not a doctor. I only know what I googled and have personally experienced. </p><p>Sixth, I found this song while writing a few chapters ago and it reminds me of Carl a lot. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dS5GfL9F7L4</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Carl had forced himself to keep it together as best as he could in the next week while all of Debbie’s shit got sorted out. She’d gotten fined and 30 days jail time, more if she couldn’t come up with the money. Which had resulted in a huge argument about whether or not Carl should pay it for her, or not. In the end, he didn’t have to. She said she’d gotten money from a friend, and at that point, no one cared where it came from if she was the one taking care of it. Her being in jail was nothing different than anything had been before. </p><p>Franny was having accidents more and woke up crying all the time, and Carl couldn’t do anything but look at her while she sobbed into Mickey’s arms every morning. He couldn’t help her. He didn’t know how to do that. </p><p>His nightmares had become so frequent and so intense, he barely slept 3 hours a night anymore. And everyone was up his ass about it like he wasn’t fucking trying to sleep or like he actually fucking enjoyed this. All of the weird little flashes of memories when he saw or heard something were happening again, but luckily none of them had made him panic. He saw Mickey’s razor on their dresser and his mind flashed to Frank. When Carl still gave a shit because he thought Frank could actually love him. When Carl shaved his head to let the sunrays while Frank declined with his failed liver.</p><p>Sylvia had started coming over almost every day to hang out with Franny, which Franny was over the moon about. They couldn’t thank Sylvia enough for playing with her for a few hours because it made Franny so happy and it let someone get something done instead of watching Franny. Sometimes it was the only time he’d hear Sylvia laugh anymore. She spent a lot of time crying about her sister, or looking like a husk after therapy. Carl and Sylvia were just falling apart parallel to each other, trying to comfort the other one when they had half a second to breathe.</p><p>Everything was a blur and it was getting harder to get up in the morning without feeling like a giant concrete block was crushing him back onto the bed. Sylvia sat next to him on the front step. They were outside, watching Franny play with Liam. She’d smiled a few times today and Carl was happy that today was a better day for her.</p><p>“You seem like you’re having an okay day,” he said. </p><p>:Yeah, I guess. Anyway, what are you doing on Friday night?” She asked him excitedly. </p><p>“No,” Carl said, flatly. He tried to make himself sound less dead but it wasn’t working.</p><p>“Great! I have plans for us,” Sylvia said.</p><p>“What plans?” Carl asked, trying to sound interested. It wasn’t that he didn’t care. He was just tired.</p><p>“It’s a surprise,” Sylvia said bumping his shoulder. </p><p>“Okay,” he said simply. He rubbed his head, trying not to do whatever stupid left eyebrow or left eyeball twitch Sylvia said he does.</p><p>He watched Liam blow bubbles. He followed the highest one until it popped. </p><p>“Carl,” Sylvia said, shaking his shoulder a little.</p><p>He turned his head towards her. “Hm?”</p><p>“Are you listening to me?” She asked</p><p>“Yeah. Friday. Some surprise thing,” He summarized back to her.</p><p>She sighed. “I said something after that, Carl,” she said sadly.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Carl said. </p><p>She put her finger under his chin and guided him to look at her. “I need you to do me a favor.”</p><p>“Yeah, sure. What?” </p><p>“Call a doctor,” she said, firmly.</p><p> He tried to turn his head but she lightly stopped him with her palm. </p><p>“You honestly want to keep going like this?” She asked him.</p><p>He didn’t answer. No. But what else was there? </p><p>“If you could actually sleep and not spend most of your time with your head pounding, I’m pretty sure that will cut how miserable you feel in half,” she said, trying to catch his eye. He wasn’t moving his head but he wasn’t looking at her either. </p><p>“I’m okay,” he said softly.</p><p>“You’re,” she started shouting but glanced at Liam and Franny. She lowered her voice. “No, you’re not,” she hissed at him. </p><p>“Sylvia,” he said, tiredly.</p><p>She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, they were full of tears. “You look like you’re dying,” she whispered.</p><p>“I’m not dying.” He tried to sound reassuring but he just sounded like an emotionless robot. </p><p>“You’re kind of slowly killing yourself,” she pointed out. </p><p>Carl was taken aback. “What?” </p><p>“Fuck! That’s not the point, okay?” Sylvia said, running her hands through her hair. She kept glancing at Franny and Liam to make sure they were okay. She’d be a good teacher.</p><p>“The point is you look like you’re fucking dying and I cannot fucking take it because I cannot watch someone else die so whether or not the fuck you’re actually dying, it doesn’t matter. You look like you are. You haven’t been yourself. It’s like someone sucked you out of you out so it’s like you're dead anyway!” She was actually yelling now, with tears streaming down her face. Liam and Franny were staring at her.</p><p>“I need you to do this thing for me! You can hate it all you want but please stop making me look at you, looking like this. I cannot, watch, another, person, die!” She punctuated the last word of each sentence. She breathed hard, putting her head in her hands. Liam had taken Franny inside, carefully stepping around them. </p><p>Carl was stunned. Carl’s brain was too slow all the time now, but he thought he got it. She thought he looked like he was dying. She’d watch someone die. He was reminding her of that. Oh. Well, shit.</p><p>“You watched someone die?” He said. Of course that’s what his fucking brain put in his mouth. That was a terrible fucking response.</p><p>She gave him a withering look. “I was in the car next to my sister. So yes, Carl,” she snarled.</p><p>Holy fuck. If his brain was actually functioning he’d probably feel the full impact of that. It was like he knew there was more of an impact, but his brain was too tired to feel it. Either way, Carl couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t take feeling like this all the time anymore. And he definitely could not take the way Sylvia was looking at him right now.</p><p>“Okay,” he said simply, coming to a decision.</p><p>“Okay what?” She responded irritably. </p><p>“I’ll call.” Carl swallowed nervously. </p><p>Her face was completely blank for a few seconds, her mouth shaped in an o. Sylvia blinked and a few tears came out again. “Yeah?” She asked, like if she dared to believe it would blow up in her face.</p><p>“Yeah,” Carl said back, smiling a little and nodding. </p><p>“Oh my god.” She started crying again. </p><p>Wait, what? This was supposed to be a good thing. What did his sleep deprived brain miss?</p><p>“I… I thought that you would be happy about that,” Carl said slowly.</p><p>“I am,” She said. She sniffed. “I’m so fucking relieved.” She let out a huge breath.</p><p>He was probably supposed to say something now, but he didn’t know what so he pulled her to him and hugged her instead. She fell into it, getting her breathing back under control again while he played with the bottom of her hair idly. </p><p>Carl realized something. “Uh, I don’t know who I’d call.”</p><p>She pulled back. “Yeah, I found someone. So if you’re willing to just try this person they are taking new patients I asked…” She trailed off, trying not to look hopeful.</p><p>“That’s fine,” he said. “Thanks.”</p><p>“Okay.” She looked at her phone. “It’s 5:30. They close at 6. We’re doing this right now.” </p><p>“I...I don’t know.., how,” he said, feeling stupid and overwhelmed. </p><p>“I can do it, if you want. You did it for me, remember?” She put her hand on his knee.</p><p>He nodded.</p><p>“Give me your phone so when we call, you have the number.” She held out her hand.</p><p>Carl took his phone out of his pocket and stared at it for a second like he was in a movie where someone makes a huge scene out of doing something so small. He unlocked it and put it in her hand.</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>They’d been sleeping together a lot since the night they admitted they were in love with each other. As in, literally sleeping, in the same bed. They were facing each other. Carl was playing with her fingers like he was in some disgusting romance novel. </p><p>“What if this doesn’t help?” He said nervously.</p><p>“It will,” she said. “It just might feel like shit first.” </p><p>He sighed. She sat up. “Come on, we gotta get moving so we can get there by 8.”</p><p>He bumped into the table, tiredly, and then grabbed the keys to the car off the counter. Sylia grabbed his wrist.</p><p>“Uh-uh,” She shook her head. “You’re not driving when you can’t even walk straight. No way.” </p><p>“Okay,” he dangled the keys out to her. “You drive.”</p><p>Her face turned white. “No. I do not drive.” </p><p>The way she said it so stonily and how white her face was made Carl swallow his questions. She put the keys back on the counter and looked at her phone. “The uber will be here in 5 minutes.” </p><p>“You couldn’t have just said that’s what we were doing in the first place,” he grumbled. He crossed his arms and looked at the floor.</p><p>When he looked up, she was beaming at him. She planted a huge kiss on his forehead, and he wrinkled his nose. She laughed.</p><p>“What was that for?” Carl grumbled again.</p><p>“Because you were like yourself for a second,” she said.</p><p>By the time he figured out a response to that, she’d grabbed his hand, and guided him into the car that pulled up. He felt like shit and slumped with his face pressing into her arm. She put her arm around him. “I feel really fucking bad,” he said, quietly. He sucked in a breath when a stab of pain went through his head. “Like really bad.” </p><p>He finally admitted it after pushing everyone and everything out for months.</p><p>“Looks like we’re going to the right place then,” she said.</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>“You sound like Franny, come on,” Sylvia said laughing as she guided Carl into the house and onto the couch. </p><p>“I wanna go to work,” he grumbled again.</p><p>She rolled her eyes. “For the last time, you’re not allowed to go to work for 3 days and by then it will be Friday, so you will go back Monday. And you have a doctor’s note. And we literally listened to your doctor call your boss and it was fine. So stop it.” </p><p>Carl groaned. Lip came down the stairs, sweaty. “Oh hey, didn’t know you were here,” Lip said looking at the two of them, confused.</p><p>“Why are you so gross?” Carl whined. Lip raised his eyebrows. ”I’m fixing the toilet upstairs.” Carl flopped onto his back and covered his eyes with his arms.</p><p>“What are you doing here? Thought you had work,” Lip said looking down at him from the back of the couch.</p><p>Carl let out a noise of frustration. Sylvia started laughing. Carl smiled slightly. She hadn’t laughed so much in one day in a couple of weeks. He didn’t realize how empty things felt without it until now. Which was sappy as fuck.</p><p>“Is someone going to tell me what’s going on here?” Lip said, sounding slightly amused and slightly irritated. </p><p>“No,” Carl said, smirking to himself about irritating Lip on purpose.</p><p>“He’s just being a baby because he can’t go to work for three days,” Sylvia told Lip.</p><p>“Wait, what?” Lip said, alarmed. </p><p>“He went to the doctor,” Sylvia said proudly. Carl grimaced but also felt kind of warm when she kept telling him she was proud of him.</p><p>“Really?” Lip said. Carl took his arms off his eyes. Lip looked shocked and relieved. “What happened?”</p><p>Lip was looking at him expectantly. “Just give him the paper,” Carl mumbled, waving his hand. </p><p>She handed Lip the papers. “Okay, gotta go to work and then meet with my advisor about classes for the fall. I’ll talk to you later.” She paused at the door. “And you better keep your ass seated except to go to the bathroom, eat at the table, and move to your bed.” She gave him a look before closing the door.</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>Carl woke up to find Lip still in the armchair staring at the papers from the doctor.</p><p>“Are you just going to stare at that all day? New words aren’t going to appear,” Carl said to Lip. </p><p>Lip glanced up and cleared his throat, putting the papers down on the coffee table. “You, uh, hungry?” </p><p>Not really but Lip was looking at him like the fate of the world rested on this question. “Sure,” Carl said.</p><p>Lip blinked a few times and then got out of the chair, smiling. “What do you want?” </p><p>“Whatever,” Carl said, shrugging. He felt like there was a weight in his chest slowly getting lower, and lower inside of him. He picked up the papers from the doctor and sighed.</p><p>
  <i>Patient complains of migraines, and extreme sleep deprivation, caused according to the patient but chronic nightmares.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Patient says he sleeps two to three hours a night, and this has been going on for a little over a month. Patient disclosed that he started having nightmares three months ago, but they did not cause the same level of distress until this past month.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Patient had difficulty focusing and processing conversation. Questions had to be repeated frequently. Patient presents flat affect and depressed mood. Patient cannot walk in a straight line. Patient and girlfriend say that the nightmares and lack of sleep were making it almost impossible for him to function. Patient reports consuming high levels of caffeine.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Treatment: Prescribed imitrex for migraines in tablet form. Prescribed 10 days worth of prazosin for nightmares as a hold over until patient can consult a psychiatrist.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>It is difficult to evaluate the migraines when patient has intense sleep deprivation. Patient reports having migraines before these afflictions occured. It is not possible at this time to evaluate migraines on their own, as they may be linked to lack of sleep.</i>
</p><p>Doctor expects patient to come back next week for a follow up, and to make that appointment before leaving. </p><p>
  <i>
    <b>Follow up: May 25 8am</b>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <b>Patient must refrain from working for three days starting May 18th.</b>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Recommendations and referrals: Patient is highly encouraged to seek mental health treatment within the next week. Patient has been referred to doctors listed below. Doctor has let places know of the referral.<i></i></i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Lip put a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in front of him and a glass of water. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Thanks,” Carl murmured, and picked up half of the sandwich in exchange for the papers. Carl ate while Lip sat in silence, fidgeting with a bottle cap.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Can we just do the lecture now and get it over with?” Carl said, breaking the silence. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Lip looked at him curiously. “Do you want to be lectured?” </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“No,” Carl said, confused. “You just always lecture after stuff like this, so let’s hear it and move on.” </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Lip sighed. “I’m not really up for lecturing, right now.” He smiled a little.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Carl’s eyebrows creased in concern. Since when did Lip not want to give his two cents on something? “Are you okay?” Carl asked.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Lip shrugged with an uncharacteristically open expression of “not okay” on his face.”Tami and Ian are up my ass, don’t worry about it.” </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Okay,” Carl said slowly, debating if he should push or just leave it as Lip gave it. He sighed, and decided to go the misery loves company route. “We’re all fucked.” </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Lip quirked a small amused smile. “Maybe. Depends on the day. We can still get less.. fucked which is better than nothing, I guess.” </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Carl looked down, not really sure if he believed that right now but wasn’t going to destroy that belief for Lip. Lip got up and sat down next to him on the couch, and picked up the papers.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Okay, one small lecture,” Lip said, smirking. Carl rolled his eyes. “You need to do what the doctor recommended. You need to make an appointment with one of those people. Carl, you need to do it even if you don’t like it. Okay?”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Carl looked Lip in the eye. “Okay. If you do what you need to do. Go to a meeting or whatever. If you do it, I’ll do it.” </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Lip raised his eyebrows. “Deal.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>--</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“So you gonna tell me what we’re doing Friday?” Carl asked, bouncing his leg. They were in the waiting room of one of the psychiatrists he was referred to and Carl was about to lose his shit. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Oh,” Sylvia said. “Well we’re not doing anything other than you sitting around on your ass and sleeping.” </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“I thought we were going to do something fun,” Carl said, slightly disappointed. Her eyes widened catching onto his disappointment. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“We will, when you’re better,” Sylvia said. Carl huffed. She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a fucking five year old. We can make sitting around fun in the meantime.” </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Carl sighed and stared intensely at the door they’d been calling people from. “I swear to god, if this dude doesn’t show up in the next 10 minutes, I’m leaving.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Sylvia rubbed his shoulder, trying to hide her snickering by biting her lip. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“I’m fucking serious,” Carl said, annoyed that she found this funny. “It’s not funny.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Oh sorry, when you pout, it is kind of hilarious,” Sylvia said, grinning at him. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“I don’t pout,” Carl grumbled. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“You're doing it right now,” Sylvia laughed. “You’re cute.” </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“I am not cute,” Carl said, glaring at her.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Oh okay, excuse me Mr. Manly Man. You’re the biggest, most macho, ugliest motherfucker on the planet.” </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Carl rolled his eyes and laughed a little.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Ha!” Sylvia said pointing at him smiling, looking pleased with herself</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“What?” Carl asked, not understanding her reaction.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Carl Gallagher,” someone in scrubs called at the door. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Now that he finally had been called Carl froze. He swallowed hard. “Carl,” Sylvia said, gently pulling his hand out of his lap, and standing up. “Come on.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>He stood up, gripping her hand. They followed the scrubs lady down a hall, into a small office room. The lady motioned to two seats in front of a desk. She sat behind it. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“I’m Martha, intake specialist. I’m gonna gather some information about you before you see the doctor.” She smiled reassuringly at him.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>He nodded kind of numbly.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Okay, first, do you give uh this young lady permission to be here?” Martha asked. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Sylvia? Yeah,” Carl responded looking between Sylvia and Martha. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“It’s a legal formality,” Martha explained. “Alright, we’ll try to make this painless as possible. If you want to stop and take a break at any point, let me know.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>That was supposed to be comforting but it just made Carl more nervous. What the hell were they going to ask him?</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>She pointed at a file with his full name printed on top. “Is that correct?” </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Yeah.” </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Okay. Date of birth,” she asked.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Uh March 19 2002.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Damn, you’re a baby,” Martha said before moving onto the next question. “Are you on any medications?”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>The questions kind of went on like this for a while and they got more uncomfortable. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Do you drink or do drugs?”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Uh, I drink and smoke weed sometimes.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“How often?”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Carl squirmed. “A drink like a beer after work almost every day. Smoke I don’t know, a few times a month if that anymore.” </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Have you ever been dependent on a substance?”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Uh, does caffeine count?” </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>She smiled a little. “Kind of. I mean weed, alcohol, street drugs, nicotine, diet pills..” </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Oh. No.” Carl said. As he got older he was realizing how surprising that was given his family history and the fact that he dealt drugs. He’d used before, but never been dependent on it. Honestly, most street drugs sucked. Carl didn’t get the appeal.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Have you ever been a victim of domestic violence?”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Uh,” Carl looked at Sylvia not sure how to answer. She nodded.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Yes,” Carl said, like a question. “But I mean, that’s kind of how shit is in the Southside.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Has a parent or guardian ever physically harmed you? Examples include throwing things, hitting, punching…”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Yeah, Carl cut her off before she could continue. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Were your parents or guardians ever addicted to drugs or alcohol?” </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Carl huffed a laugh. “Both.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>The questions went on and on, and the more Carl said yes, the more he thought he’d made a huge mistake coming here.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Family history of suicide and/or mental illness? Yes. Been abandoned? Yes. Parent in prison? Yes. Neglected? Yes. Experienced hunger and/or homelessness? Yes. Have you ever been a witness to violence? Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Have you ever been sexually assaulted or abused?” After a million yes questions that were so fucking obviously a yes, he froze. The Kassidi door was straining to open. And he was not doing that. There was enough shit. And he didn’t even know if it counted. He’d been quiet for too long.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Carl?” Martha prompted.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“No,” Carl said in a hard voice. To Martha’s credit she didn’t react to his questionable answer but Sylvia was xraying him.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>They finally got to the end of the questions after what felt like hours. Holy fuck why did they make you do this and then go sit there and have your skull cracked open by a psychiatrist? Wasn’t the whole intake thing enough shit for one appointment? Apparently not. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>The psychiatrist was some weird ass middle age dude whose eyebrows had hairs that were like an inch long, hanging over his eyes. He sounded like a cartoon character. Carl would have cracked up laughing immediately any other day.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>For someone who had literally just gone to the doctor the day before for being sleep deprived, they had him answering a lot of shit. Weren’t they given the information from the other doctor?  After the whole intake thing, he had nothing left. He couldn’t even remember what the question was so he didn’t even know if he’d given a true answer to anything. Shouldn’t they have fucking realized that this was a bad idea? Carl was getting pissed while the dude blah blah blahed, and here’s a drug script blah blah blah, and I’m gonna hold off on diagnosis until your sleep is under control blah blah blah. Come back next week blah blah blah. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Fuck off.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>--</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Everyone was too fucking loud. Everything was too fucking bright. He was too fucking exhausted. He’d spent three hours home alone by some miracle and still couldn’t shake off his dumb appointment or figure out how to find every single goddamn thing less irritating. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>He sat at the kitchen table picking at his lunch and staring at the pill bottles. One was just a fuller version of the prazosin shit that was supposedly going to help his nightmares  The other was none other than fucking xanax that he was apparently supposed to take three hours before bed. He was beginning to understand why Ian didn’t like taking new meds, because he didn’t know how the hell they would affect him. He had already basically lost control of his mind and didn’t need anything to make it worse. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>The front door opened and Sylvia came through. Her phone rang, and she sighed. She waved and held up a finger to say one minute. Carl shrugged and went back to turning his sandwich into crumbs. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Is dad there?” Sylvia said into the phone. She leaned against the door in the entry way. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Because I don’t want to talk to you, mom, and you don’t have info about the FASFA anyway,” Sylvia sighed.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“You know why I don’t want to talk to you.” </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Mom, I’m not doing this with you right now.” </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Oh my god. Just tell dad to call me ASAP okay? And…” she hesitated, “I love you.” She hung up the phone.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Hey,” she greeted. She sat across from him at the table.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“What was all of that about?” Carl asked, gesturing to the phone on the table.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Sylvia sighed and rolled her eyes. “My mom being my mom.” </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Carl tilted his head, waiting for her to say more.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“She just blames me for some stuff,” she looked at him sadly. And then gave him a hard look of “boundary do not fucking cross” before changing the subject. “Anyway how was the rest of the day?” </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Shitty,” Carl said. “How was work?” </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>She shrugged. “Same old shit but it was fine.” </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Carl nodded and put his head in his hand. She pulled a plastic bag out of her lap and dropped it on the table in front of him. He gave her a questioning look. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Well open it,” she said, shaking her head at him smiling.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Carl pulled the plastic bag over and opened it. A pint of vanilla ice cream and a bag of gummy bears. The ice cream was sweating so it was probably more goo by now. He smiled slowly and looked up.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“I thought you said gummy bears are disgusting,” he said, smirking. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Oh they are, which is why that bag is the only gummy thing I bought for toppings.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“What?” Carl asked. “Toppings?” </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Yep, you’ll see,” Sylvia smiled standing up. “We need to go to my house though.” </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“I thought I wasn’t allowed to walk anywhere for that long? And you won’t let me drive, so are you gonna push me in a wheelbarrow?” He asked laughing for the first time in what felt like years. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Well do you have one?” She asked, looking completely serious. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>He raised his eyebrows. “Uh no.” </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>She sighed and smiled. “Too bad. That would have been fun. You can walk for ten minutes.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Oh thanks doctor,” Carl said sarcastically. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>She stepped into his space. “So… you wanna stay over?” She asked shyly. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Why do you always act so nervous when you ask that?” Carl said, flicking strands of hair that fell in her face because they were too short to get in her ponytail. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“I don’t know. But I get if you want to be alone after everything from today,” Sylvia said quietly. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“He shrugged. I want to. So let’s just assume I’m up for it until I’m not,” Carl said. “Okay?”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>She nodded. “Go get clothes to sleep in then,” She smirked and pushed his shoulders back. “Shortie.” </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Carl scoffed and backed up.“Might want to rethink your offer. I might have to murder you tonight,” Carl called as he went down the steps.</i>
  </i>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Part Twenty Six</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Carl finally gets some sleep. But he's a Gallagher, so there's always a new crisis or five around the corner.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm sorry this took so long. I had such a hard time writing anything. I'm sorry that this is probably sad. I tried doing fluff. I'm sorry for how long the update took. Thanks for reading.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Apparently walking ten minutes too much in Carl’s super sleep deprived state, which was embarrassing as fuck. </p><p>Sylvia made him sit and drink water while she moved around the kitchen, putting stuff on the table. She pulled out a few tubs of ice cream from the freezer. </p><p>“What is all of this?” Carl asked. He watched her move around with his head in his hand.</p><p>“What’s it look like?” </p><p>“Ice cream,” Carl said, still not understanding what was going on. “What are we doing with it?”</p><p>She gave him a funny look. “We’re eating it.” </p><p>“Oh,” Carl said, still staring down at the table blankly.</p><p>“Jesus, you need sleep,” Sylvia said, rolling her eyes.</p><p>Carl watched her open ice cream containers. “Why did you get all of this stuff?” </p><p>She stepped in between his legs, and put her hands on his shoulders. “So we can eat it…” She said slowly, smirking. </p><p>Carl was blinking slowly and grimacing. </p><p>“You okay?” Sylvia asked, stepping back a little bit. He shook his head without hesitation which made her frown deeper at him. He wished he could take it back so she didn’t look like that.</p><p>“Feeling bad like this morning?” She asked gently. He shrugged in response. It was a little different but he didn’t feel up to explaining it. It was still bad, which was the pertinent information.</p><p>“Wanna go lie down?” She glanced at the bedroom. He shook his head. It wasn’t bed time. He wasn’t five. “Wanna watch something on the couch?” He nodded.</p><p>She smirked. He knew he’d played right into her plans but whatever. He wasn’t going to bed.</p><p>They moved to the couch, and Carl’s eyes widened. “Ice cream?” </p><p>“Later,” Sylvia said. </p><p>“Sorry,” Carl mumbled.</p><p>She rolled her eyes and threw a blanket at him. “Get comfy. I’ll be back in a minute.”</p><p>Carl listened to her put the ice cream back in the freezer. He didn’t really want anyone touching him right now. He pushed himself into the corner of the couch, wrapped up in the blanket like a cocoon with his legs pulled toward him. He rested his head on his arm on the armrest. </p><p>--</p><p>“Carl,” Sylvia said above him. Her hand shook his shoulder. He fumbled awake. </p><p>“What?” He asked blearily. Couldn’t she just leave him alone?</p><p>“I’ll leave you alone after you take your meds and get in an actual bed,” She said, sounding exasperated. </p><p>“Whatever,” Carl mumbled.</p><p>--</p><p>“Uh… what are you doing?” Carl asked. He watched Sylvia sort a handful of M&amp;Ms by color.</p><p>“Sorting them,” she said, like this was a completely normal thing to do with your M&amp;Ms.</p><p>“But why?” Carl smirked.</p><p>“The two of the most color go on the ice cream,” she said.</p><p>“...why?” Carl watched her with raised eyebrows.</p><p>“I don’t know. Because that’s what I've always done.” She shrugged.</p><p>“You’re fucking weird,” Carl said laughing. </p><p>“You’ve never sorted your candy by color before?” Sylvia asked.</p><p>“No, I ate the candy before five other siblings and Frank could snatch it. Survival of the fittest,” Carl responded.</p><p>She rolled her eyes. “It couldn’t have been that bad?”</p><p>Carl scoffed. “You’ve met my family. If we’re like how we are now, imagine us as kids. Plus Frank was honestly the person you really had to watch out for.”</p><p>“You guys don’t talk much about Frank,” Sylvia commented.</p><p>“He’s a piece of shit and we have know idea where he is. Nothing to talk about,” Carl responded.</p><p>“That doesn’t bother you?” Sylvia asked, curiously.</p><p>“Nope,” Carl said popping the p. “He was gone for like 3 months and somehow landed his ass in Mexico. He always comes back.”</p><p>Carl shook his head remembering all the times Frank disappeared and the places he turned up in. If there were more countries accessible by land, he was pretty sure Frank would have ended up in more countries than just Mexico and Canada. But he also wouldn’t put it past Frank to get his ass on a plain to fucking Austraulia. </p><p>Carl pushed his bowl of ice cream to Sylvia. “What do you think?” He asked grinning.</p><p>She wrinkled her nose. “Too many toppings… none of those go to together. Gummy bears and M&amp;Ms?” </p><p> “Yours has strawberries on it. You don’t mix fruit and ice cream. It’s not natural. Fruit is good for you. Ice cream isn’t,” Carl comentated. “Have you ever even tried gummy bears and M&amp;Ms together?” </p><p>Sylvia rolled her eyes at Carl’s ice cream analysis.“Nope, and I’m not going to,” Sylvia said. “Have you ever had fruit with ice cream?” She countered, looking smug.</p><p>“Actually, yeah,” Carl said, smirking. “So there.”</p><p>Carl looked down and then back up with a devilish grin on his face. She raised her eyebrows at him. “What are you planning to do?” She asked warily.</p><p>He grabbed a handful of M&amp;Ms and gummy bears, and tilted his hand slightly like he was going to put his hand over her mouth. </p><p>She sighed. “You’re secretly a five year old.”</p><p>He got up and pretended to advance at her while she scooted back laughing. He stood over her legs. Smirking, holding out his handful of candy which was starting to melt. He glanced down at her and kissed her.</p><p>“Hey!” She said shoving him off. “Don’t get all over me with your messy hands. Wash them first!” </p><p>Carl rolled his eyes and washed his hands. “Do I meet your cleanliness standards now?” </p><p>“I suppose.” </p><p>The ice cream was forgotten about for a bit.  </p><p>--</p><p>It’d been two weeks, and to Carl’s utter shock, the medication did help. He really shouldn’t be shocked. He’s watched Ian and Sylvia get new medicines and improve. He wasn’t sure if it’s some placebo effect thingy or it actually works. Apparently no one could figure that out until a month had passed but they said he would start seeing a difference two weeks in, and well it’s been two weeks, and he’s actually fucking sleeping. </p><p>That week the only thing Carl did not do anything other than eat, go to work, and sleep. Every chance he got he was asleep, and he hadn’t really talked to his family or Sylvia all week but they seemed okay with it because Carl was actually sleeping. Carl started looking like a human and his head wasn’t one loud noise from exploding all the time. He could actually think clearly when he was awake, which was great, but also startling. Everything had been so muted and now everything was sharp and bright, and sometimes it was too much.</p><p>Like when he’d gone back for his weekly visit to the psychiatrist, who ended up not being that bad of a person, but Carl didn’t want to be there regardless. The dude kept saying that now Carl was starting to get his sleeping issues under control and recovering from the lack of sleep, that it was time to “look at his other issues”. Or something like that. </p><p>Carl was not fucking into that. He had just wanted to sleep again, and he had that, so now it was all fine again. He didn’t have as many weird flashes of memories that gutted him, and he was starting to just blame the sleep deprivation on that. Carl “would benefit from therapy”, but he did not go.</p><p>Everyone was kind of frustrated with him for that but Carl had lost it on Sylvia and his family at dinner the other day, pointing out he agreed to go because he wanted to sleep, he never said he would do more and no one had brought it up until now. So fuck them. </p><p>Things with Sylvia weren’t bad but they weren’t great either.  Carl’s refusal to try therapy had created a tension in their relationship that hadn’t been there before. Carl didn’t understand that because he hadn’t wanted to do shit before and it was fine, so why was this so different? Sylvia kept insisting that having memories flashes was not normal, and he kept just saying they were less now so it was fine. He could deal. He started trying to hide things so she’d get off her ass, but her fucking smart ass could see it in a heartbeat every damn time.</p><p>To add to that, Sylvia was constantly dodging calls from her parents. Sometimes she turned her phone off for hours to avoid having to even look at them come up on her screen, which kind of made it hard to get a hold of her sometimes. Something had happened between Sylvia and her parents the week Carl had been asleep, but she wouldn’t talk about it. She’d actually been borderline belligerent about it when she had screamed for him to stop asking and mind his own business. So Carl said maybe she should mind her own fucking bussiness about him going to therapy, and she’d yelled “fine” before going in her room, slamming the door, leaving him awkwardly standing there alone in a kitchen that wasn’t his.</p><p>They both said sorry because they felt bad about how they handled it, but neither of them was going to budge an inch on the therapy or the phone call issues. So yeah, that definitely made everything have an undercurrent of tension. It was starting to drive him nuts. He didn’t know what to do about it because he wasn’t going to change his mind about therapy, which seemed like the only way to solve it. </p><p>Things were not improving by the end of the week and Carl was starting to question how much of the shit was actually about him. Everyone kept saying how closed off and un-open Carl was, but Sylvia was ten times worse. It was basically like she had a castle full of secrets and there was a dragon guarding it. Except she was the dragon. The problem was that for however angry she acted, she just looked fucking hurt. Carl didn’t know how to fix this shit. He was starting to wonder why the hell Sylvia was sticking around at this point.</p><p>--</p><p>So start of week three of Carl being on medication, they were hanging out in her room, and things were actually going okay. She’d laughed a few times and hadn't snapped at him all day. She got up excitedly from her bed where they were sitting to grab something off her bookshelf. </p><p>Her eyes stopped on a tiny teapot with uneven painted stripes of purple, blue, and orange. She lightly touched it for a second before grabbing the box from the shelf above. Sylvia’s elbow hit the little ceramic teapot, and it shattered on the ground. She dropped the box and it thudded on the floor next to it. </p><p>Carl wasn’t sure what was going on because she had just been staring with her mouth open in shock for the last minute. She finally dropped down in front of the pieces. She reached for one but quickly drew her finger back hissing. It had pricked her, leaving a small bead of blood on her finger tip. </p><p>“Hey,” he said, finally speaking up. Her shocked demeanor cracked and she almost fell over into all the pieces, trying to sit down on the floor. Carl sprung off the bed and somehow caught her under her armpits before she actually hit the floor. He pulled her up and pushed her to the bed. </p><p>He was about to say “Sylvia” when she let out this awful, gutting sob. Carl’s eyes went wide. Somehow in the five seconds of getting on the bed, she was now sobbing. Carl didn’t know someone could cry so hard. He didn’t understand what had just happened that made her so upset. What the fuck was he supposed to do? </p><p>The only thing Carl could think of doing was holding her, but he didn’t know if she wanted to be touched, and she was crying too hard to probably tell him yes or no. He almost wanted to call one of his brothers. They had more experience with this shit. He just stood there staring like a fucking idiot. </p><p>“Hey,” he said softly, sitting on the bed. “Sylvia.”</p><p>He was surprised when she actually looked up at him. They stared at each other, while she had tears streaming down her face and hiccuped. He hoped he looked caring, and not just stupid and terrified. The bed started vibrating. Sylvia looked down, “mom” was flashing across her phone screen. She laughed hysterically and actually picked up, hitting speaker, and throwing it back on the bed. </p><p>“Sylvia, I’ve been trying to call you for days!” Her mom’s voice shouted through the phone. </p><p>“It’s broken,” Sylvia said hollowly. </p><p>“What?” Her mom said sharply.</p><p>“It’s broken,” Sylvia repeated. </p><p>“What is broken?” Her mom said, getting agitated.</p><p>“The teapot we made. It’s broken,” Sylvia said, choking on her sobs and words.</p><p>The otherside of the phone was silent. Carl was about to get up and leave the room since this wasn’t his business, but when he got to the door Sylvia motioned for him to come back with pleading eyes, so he lowered himself to the floor and sat against the wall. </p><p>“I fucking knocked it over by accident with my elbow. It’s in fucking pieces. Just like every fucking thing about our lives,” Sylvia cried. “She’s dead, mom.”</p><p>“Don’t say that again,” Sylvia’s mom said harshly.</p><p>“She’s dead! Claire is dead!” Sylvia screamed into the phone. “And it’s my fault! I wish I had died with her. It’s my fault! You’re right! Are you happy now?” </p><p>“Sylvia,” Her mom said, sounding like she was being strangled. </p><p>“Well, are you?”</p><p>Her mom said nothing.</p><p>“Where’s… where’s dad?” Sylvia asked.</p><p>“Out,” her mom snapped. “With his latest mistress.”</p><p>Sylvia looked like she was going to throw up. </p><p>“And whose fault is that?” Her mom said coldly. “Of course, I’m not happy. But I am glad to see you’re coming to your senses.” </p><p>Carl had never heard someone sound so cold in his life. His parents were a lot of things. They were uncaring, but never cold.</p><p>Sylvia started crying harder, silently. “What… why are you calling, mom?” </p><p>“We won’t be coming back next month as planned,” her mom stated.</p><p>“Okay,” Sylvia said quietly. “I love you.”</p><p>“You’re the only one you can blame for your situation. Remember that.” Her mom hung up.</p><p>Sylvia pushed out the door, and he heard her throw up in the bathroom. What the fuck was that phone conversation? How was her sister being dead Sylvia’s fault? Sylvia wished she was dead too? Why was her mom so fucking heartless? What the actual fuck?</p><p>He heaved himself off the floor, and stood in the bathroom entrance. Carl really didn’t know what the hell to do now. Sylvia was rinsing her mouth out with water, while still crying. How long could someone cry before it became a problem? She pushed past him without seeming to realize he was there. She went in the kitchen, opening random cabinets over and over.</p><p>“I need to get fucking drunk,” she muttered to herself.</p><p>What? As far as Carl knew, she didn’t drink. “What?” Carl asked out loud.</p><p>She whipped around like she’d forgotten he was there. “I… go home,” Sylvia stuttered. “Leave me alone.”</p><p>“What?” Carl asked. “You literally told me to stay like ten minutes ago.” </p><p>Sylvia let out a shaky sigh. “And now I want you to leave me alone.” She slammed open drawers. Carl wasn’t sure if she even knew what she was looking for, or present enough to realize there wouldn’t be any alcohol in the junk drawer. </p><p>“What are you looking for?” Carl asked.</p><p>“A drink,” she snapped. </p><p>“It’s not going to be in a drawer,” Carl said, walking slowly towards her. </p><p>“Go away,” Sylvia said, rolling her eyes. Still crying. Carl didn’t understand how that was possible. </p><p>She pulled open the cutlery drawer and paused. Carl watched her look at the knives. Fuck. Shit. He came over and slammed the drawer shut. She took a step back and he stood in front of it.</p><p>“I told you to go,” she said, staring at where the drawer would be. </p><p>“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Carl said, trying to sound gentle and firm at the same time. </p><p>“Didn’t ask for your opinion.” She swiped her face.</p><p>“After what I heard, I really don’t think you should be alone,” Carl tried again</p><p>“You don’t know shit, Carl,” she snarled and started pacing.</p><p>“If I leave, are you going to be safe?” Carl asked, raising his eyebrows. She didn’t say anything. He stepped in front of her, blocking her from pacing more, and held eye contact with her. “Are you?” </p><p>She looked away, whatever angry energy she had moments before fading away. “Sylvia?” He pressed, gently.</p><p>Sylvia shook her head. “No,” she whispered. </p><p>Carl nodded. “Then I’m not going. We don’t have to talk. You don’t have to look at me.”</p><p>She looked at him with big, sad eyes that reminded him of Fiona for a minute even though Sylvia’s eyes were blue. She threw herself at him, and he hugged her back hard. They stood there for a while, her face pressed into his shoulder, which was kind of awkward for her because she was taller. </p><p>“I wanna stop crying. I can’t make it stop,” she said, her voice right in his ear. </p><p>Carl’s mind flashed to the night he first completely lost his shit. Lip had drugged him with whatever they had in the house.</p><p>Carl pulled back but kept his hands on her shoulders. “Meds and lie down?” He suggested.</p><p>“Okay,” she whispered.</p><p>--</p><p>Carl slowly blinked awake. When did he lie down to go to sleep? What time was it? It was one of those naps where it’s like you entered a time vortex and you don’t know what year it is anymore.</p><p>He glanced around the room. There was a weight on him. He looked down. He had his arm wrapped around Sylvia. She was laying on her side with her arm thrown across his stomach and face next to his chest.  Her eyelids were red from rubbing them so much while crying. There were a few little swipes of black, probably from makeup. The shattered teapot and the phone call all came rushing back to Carl’s memory. Fuck. </p><p>He turned his neck to look at her alarm clock. It was 7:03 and it was still the same day, so he wasn’t completely fucked. He slowly moved Sylia’s arm off his stomach. She didn’t wake up but rolled over on her side in the other direction. </p><p>Carl quietly padded into the kitchen. His phone was on the counter. He woke the screen up. There were 15 missed calls from various members of his family, but mostly just Debbie. Everyone else had only called once. Debbie had left five voicemails. It would be faster to just talk to her but he didn’t want to so he called Lip instead, dread in his stomach. What was the problem now? And why was Debbie calling him on her cell phone when he thought she had another week left in prison?</p><p>The phone call picked up after only two rings. “Carl? We’ve been trying to reach you for hours,” Lip said, sounding relieved.</p><p>“Sorry. Situation came up. What the fuck is going on? I have like a million missed calls from Debbie,” Carl asked.</p><p>“Uh,” Lip said. Carl could picture him rubbing his lip with his pointer finger. “Summarized version is Debbie was let out a week early for what she says is overcrowding. Not sure if that’s the real reason or not. She thinks they’re going to take Franny. DFCS. She thinks one of us should get some sort of custody of Franny so she doesn’t end up in foster care.” </p><p>“What the fuck?” Carl exclaimed into the phone. </p><p>Lip was silent for a beat. “That’s not the worst of it,” he said nervously. </p><p>“What?” Carl asked. What the hell else could there be?</p><p>“She wants you to do it. Have custody of Franny,” Lip said hesitantly. “Kinda didn’t wanna tell you that on the phone, but…” </p><p>Carl couldn’t breathe for a second. “You’re kidding me, right?” He laughed weakly, hoping.</p><p>“I fucking wish,” Lip said. There were a few moments of silence while Carl attempted to process this information. “She wants to have a family meeting about ASAP. That’s why she kept calling.” </p><p>Fuck. Carl glanced at Sylvia’s slightly closed bedroom door. “I..I can’t do that right now.” </p><p>“Why?” Lip asked.</p><p>“Because..” Carl trailed off. Because he fucking couldn’t, how about that for an answer? Fuck Debbie. “I can’t really leave Sylvia right now.”</p><p>“Carl,” Lip said, sounding annoyed. </p><p>“No, it’s not like that,” Carl interrupted. “Look, something happened and she’s in a really bad way right now. Leaving her alone isn’t a good idea.”</p><p>“She doesn’t have any other friends or family that can come over?” Lip asked.</p><p>“Not that I’m aware of,” He said. Sylvia had friends at work. She talked about this sometimes but they weren’t close. And her parents were obviously a no go. He really didn’t know anything about her older sister besides that the sister had a baby.</p><p>“Shit,” Lip said. </p><p>“She’s sleeping right now. I don’t know… you could phone me into the meeting? I’ll come back tomorrow morning,” Carl said. That was the only solution he could think of. It felt like he was suddenly in a position where he had to choose his girlfriend or his family. If he left his girlfriend, she might bleed to death on the fucking kitchen floor. If he didn’t go to his family he wasn’t helping a crisis that somehow fucking centered on him.</p><p>Thankfully, Lip didn’t even pose that and just said, “Okay. Can you do it right now?” </p><p>“Yeah,” Carl said. </p><p>“Alright, give me a few minutes to get everyone round up,” Lip said.</p><p>Carl listened to Lip calling everyone and various voices coming into the background. This was going to be loud and Carl was probably going to end up yelling. He stepped onto the porch. He closed the main door halfway and then left the screen so if she woke up, she could see he didn’t leave.</p><p>“You there?” Lip said. </p><p>“Yup,” Carl said heavily. This was going to be fun.</p><p>“So, we can’t find Debbie,” Lip said.</p><p>“Of course not,” Carl said sarcastically. </p><p>“I guess we’ll just do it tomorrow, since she fucked off,” Ian said.</p><p>“Wait, hold up though, why does she want me to have custody of Franny?” Carl said quickly, before everyone could walk away. </p><p>“You’re seriously fucking asking that?” Mickey said. </p><p>“Mick,” Ian chastised. Ian patiently explained, “You’ve got a clean adult record. Money. A real, steady job. Money.” </p><p>Carl had no problem with paying for Franny’s stuff and coordinating her rides and putting her to bed and cooking for her and bathing her and playing with her, but not full time… and even if they still kept the system the same where the responsibility was split between four of them, he would still be on the hook legally and he was not fucking ready for that…his mind was spinning as the reality of that situation set in.</p><p>“i..I can’t,” Carl stuttered. “I love Franny...but I can’t… I don’t want to, I fucking can’t,” Carl said, getting more distressed.</p><p>“Hey,” Lip said. “Calm down a second. No one is saying you have to. Just that Debbie wants you to.”</p><p>Carl laughed derisively. “Then who the hell is keeping her out of foster care?” </p><p>“Uh,” Mickey cleared his throat. “Ian and I will.”</p><p>Apparently this was only news to Carl because everyone else was silent. “...what?” Carl asked. “You serious?” </p><p>“Yeah,” Mickey said, sounding embarrassed like he always did when he openly admitted to giving a shit in front of everyone. “We’ve been talking about it for like a month before this came up.” </p><p>“Oh,” was all Carl could think to say. Then he realized something. “Uh, can you guys even get any sort of custody of her with your… records?” </p><p>“They let us go back to fucking Terry,” Mickey responded bitterly.</p><p>“It’s possible just harder. Since none of our felonies have anything to do with child abuse we have a chance. Plus a home visit, and all that other crap,” Ian said. </p><p>Carl’s head was going to explode. “Look, don’t worry about it right now. We’ll deal with it tomorrow. You don’t have to do this,” Lip said. </p><p>“Okay,” Carl said, because what the fuck else was there to say? “I’ll see you tomorrow then.” </p><p>They all hung up.</p><p>
  <i>What… the… fuck?!</i>
</p><p>Just because Debbie decided to have a kid at 15 didn’t mean that Carl should have to take the full legal responsibility of that when he was 19. That wasn’t fucking fair. He loved Franny but he wasn’t the one who brought her into the world and then went off doing who knows what, and then expecting her brother to just take on the guardianship role? No.No fuckiing way. Carl huffed out an angry breath and went back inside.</p><p>He checked on Sylvia and she was still sleeping. He was hungry. He ordered pizza and sat on the couch trying not to think about anything, waiting for the pizza.</p><p>How the fuck did he end up with all of this responsibility? He set cats on fire and now they want him to basically adopt a kid? And Sylvia, whatever that was about… fuck. How did, he, of all fucking people end up here? </p><p>This had basically been Fiona’s life. One crisis after another dumped on her to deal with. She must just be strong or better, because Carl couldn’t fucking do this.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Part Twenty Seven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Carl is still struggling with his own issues, but is starting to get to the bottom of what's going on with Sylvia. Debbie continues to dump her drama on her family.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm sorry that this is still sad. I never said they'd be happy. But I'll say they end up happy.<br/>I'm sorry for the slow updates now. The kids go back to school 3 days a week in two weeks, so I've actually been working in person in a classroom again. </p><p>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The pizza came and Sylvia was still asleep. He wondered if he should wake her up. He sighed and looked at the shattered ceramic pot on the floor. That should probably get cleaned up before Sylvia sliced her foot open on a shard. He swept them into a dustpan and paused. Carl had a feeling throwing them out would not be a good idea. He got a glass from the kitchen and emptied the shards into the glass. She could decide what to do with them and they weren’t on the floor anymore. </p><p>Carl went to the bathroom and hoped that Sylvia would wake up soon so his brain would stop spinning for five seconds, and had something to focus on. He walked past Sylvia’s room and saw she was laying there with her eyes open, not moving. For a second, it reminded him so much of Ian that it felt like someone had taken his lungs and twisted them. </p><p>Carl sat on the bed next to her. “Hey.” He didn’t know what to say or do next. Mickey always asked Ian how he was feeling which irritated Ian because he always did it right after Ian woke up so like how the fuck was he supposed to know how he was feeling when he’d been conscious for 3 seconds?</p><p>“Hey,” Sylvia said back. Carl cringed in sympathy at how hoarse her voice sounded. “What time is it?”</p><p>“Uh, around 8:30,” Carl responded. </p><p>She nodded and sat up. She stared at the bedspread, not looking at Carl’s face. There was a pregnant pause.</p><p>“You, um, hungry?” Carl asked awkwardly. “I ordered pizza.”</p><p>“Okay,” she shrugged and pushed the covers off.</p><p>Carl followed her silently in the kitchen and handed her a plate. He tapped his fingers on the counter as she got a slice, and sat down, picking at the crust. Carl didn’t feel hungry anymore watching her but he took a slice anyway because if he wanted her to eat, he should probably eat too.</p><p>He sat down at the table, tapping his fingers again. He ran his hands through his hair and left them there, looking down. “Fuck. I’m not good at this shit. I’m sorry,” he said, frustrated. </p><p>She kicked him under the table lightly. He looked questioningly up at her. All she did was shake her head no, giving him an exasperated look. Carl wasn’t totally sure what any of that meant so he started eating. </p><p>“You can ask,” Sylvia said quietly, looking at him.</p><p>Ask what? He had so many questions? Which ones was he allowed to ask? “Uh, okay. What the hell was that?” Carl asked. Jesus. He sounded like an asshole but she didn’t really seem to acknowledge that part. Carl had to figure out soon how to ask shit without sounding like a fucking tool. “It sounded like your mom hates you.”</p><p>Sylvia sighed. “I guess she kind of does. At least right now. I don’t know.” </p><p>“Why?” Carl asked. </p><p>“She thinks it’s my fault. What happened to Claire,” Sylvia said quietly. “She’s kind of right.” </p><p>“How is she right?” Carl asked. That seemed fucking stupid to him. Unless she had deliberately set up for her sister to get into an accident, how could it be her fault? </p><p>“I was driving. She wasn’t even supposed to be in the car,” Syliva said tonelessly, staring blankly into space.</p><p>“How...did it happen?” Carl asked in a hushed voice.</p><p>She was silent for a while and Carl thought maybe he shouldn’t have asked but she started talking in this voice without any emotion that it was kind of scary. “It had been raining and snowing. There was a lot of black ice on the road. We were at a stop light. Someone was at the stoplight across the intersection but their car skidded on the ice and they couldn’t get control of the car. It was a literal accident. If the black ice hadn’t been there, it would have been fine. The person who hit us was hysterically upset about it. I think they had to sedate her. My parents and the other driver sued the city for not salting and plowing the streets properly. They got a settlement from the city.”</p><p>“You just said it was a literal accident. So how is that your fault?” Carl asked slowly. </p><p>Sylvia crossed her arms across her stomach and hunched in on herself. She stared at the tabletop, blinking rapidly against tears. “She,” Sylvia started and trailed off. “She wasn’t supposed to be in the car at all. Neither of us were. Claire had wanted to go to her friend’s house and my mom had told her no. She had been talking to me about this little party they were having for a friend all week. So I felt bad and was being the cool big sister. So I offered to drive her. And then we were in a car. And then she was dead. Because I decided to not listen to what my mom had said.”</p><p>Carl shook his head. “That’s still not your fault. That accident could have happened even if your mom had said yes and she took Claire instead of you. The conditions were set up that it would have happened anyway.” </p><p>“Yeah, well, maybe it would have happened to someone else instead,” Sylvia said bitterly. “My mom blames me for it and for every fucking way our family fell apart after.”</p><p>“And your mom has been calling to tell you this shit for the last two weeks…?” Carl asked angrily. Sylvia’s bad moods were starting to make a lot of sense now.</p><p>“Something like that. Voicemail. Text. She found out my dad is cheating on her,” Sylvia said bitterly.</p><p>“That’s not your fault either,” Carl exclaimed. “You know this is fucked up right?”</p><p>She just shrugged. When she looked up at him, she looked so defeated and guilty that Carl felt nauseous just thinking about how fucking awful it would be to carry around that kind of guilt everyday. “Like I said, she’s not wrong. It is my fault,” she said, firmly. She picked up her pizza and started eating it.</p><p>Carl sighed. There was clearly no way of arguing with her about it and she had made it clear that she was done with the conversation. Carl had wanted to ask about the whole teapot breaking thing, but she looked so fucking exhausted and had already talked so much. He’d have to wait. He could also tell she didn’t want him touching her, so she watched her slink around before heading to the bathroom to get a shower. She came back out a minute later holding out a razor and a pair of scissors that looked like the kind they had at hair salons. He silently took them from her.</p><p>He should have said he was proud of her. He should have said that he cared. He should have said something but he was afraid if he opened his mouth, he’d throw up. His phone lit up with a message. “DEBBIE” was splayed across the screen. Carl swiped the notification off the lock screen without reading the message preview. He was about to throw his and Sylvia’s phone out the window onto the concrete so their respective families would stop shitting all over them.</p><p>Even though he didn’t read the message, just seeing Debbie’s text zapped the last strength he had in him. He wanted to go home. He wanted his older brothers. He wanted to go to sleep and wake up not having to do anything or be anyone. </p><p>By the time Sylvia came out of the shower, Carl was about to try explaining why he needed to leave but she told him to go. She wanted to be alone. She’d be okay. He had a feeling she’d also xrayed him and knew something else was up so she was telling him to go home because that’s what he needed. Sylvia gave him a box of sharp stuff again, and said she’d call her therapist in the morning. Carl could bug her about calling if she didn’t do it. He reluctantly decided he’d go home, feeling like a weak asshole for not sticking around. </p><p>Carl could have walked home but since he was already being a big weak baby and he wanted his brothers, he texted Lip to see if Lip would come get him. Ian would be asleep by now or at least too drugged up to be driving. He sat on Sylvia’s front step. Lip could get him as soon as Tami was done in the shower so someone would be with Fred if Carl was cool to wait. Carl tried to tell him to forget it then but Lip told him to shut up. While Lip was waiting, Carl texted him a brief run down of what had happened with Sylvia.</p><p>When Tami’s stupid little red car pulled up, Carl felt like he was going to cry for a second. He dropped into the front seat tiredly. He dropped his backpack and the box on the floor by his feet. Lip raised his eyebrows at the box but didn’t say anything. </p><p>“I think Debbie is back. You wanna stay the night at my place?” Lip asked a few minutes into the drive.</p><p>“With your screaming baby?” Carl asked, trying to tease a little but he knew it fell completely flat.</p><p>“He’s been sleeping pretty well, actually,” Lip responded, sounding proud. “You take your meds yet?”</p><p>Shit. Carl had completely forgotten. “Fuck, no.” </p><p>He half expected Lip to start lecturing Carl about forgetting but he didn’t. “You have them with you?” Carl nodded. “Okay, take them when we get to my house.” </p><p>They’d been in the house for less than 2 minutes before Lip was pushing a cup of water at him. Carl didn’t have it in him to be irritated. Plus, he fucking forgot. He took the pills. Tami came down steps from behind him. Lip took the cup from Carl and kissed Tami briefly while passing her. Carl stood there awkwardly.</p><p>To Carl’s surprise, Tami gave him a soft smile. He didn’t think she didn’t like him but they weren’t exactly friendly with each other. They mostly ignored each other. Lip had gone to get Carl bedding. She walked to the fridge and took a sippy cup of milk out. Carl felt his gut twist in guilt for imposing on Tami.</p><p>“Sorry,” he muttered, glancing at her before looking at his feet.</p><p>She cocked her head to the side. “For what?” She asked, sounding genuinely unsure.</p><p>“Uh, for imposing,” Carl said, not sure how to explain it. He had expected her to just get what he was saying sorry for.</p><p>“You’re not imposing,” she responded. </p><p>“Okay,” Carl said, awkwardly.</p><p>“Unless, you’re like, planning on singing death metal all night,” Tami asked, trying to joke with him. </p><p>Carl appreciated it and tried to give her his best attempt at a smile. A grinch smile had to be better than no smile. “No, don’t have that talent.” </p><p>Lip came down with a pile of bedding. Tami went upstairs with the sippy cup. Carl followed Lip sluggishly. Lip handed him a t shirt and sweatpants. Carl rolled his eyes. He was pretty sure the sweatpants were actually his but whatever. He could steal them back now. He changed while Lip popped the sofa to convert to a bed, and arranged the blankets.</p><p>They had been silent the whole time. Lip seemed to just be following whatever Carl was up to doing. It was kind of weird for Lip to not blab about what was going on until Carl had to tell him to shut up, but he wasn’t going to question small blessings. </p><p>“You need anything else?” Lip asked. </p><p>Carl sat on the couch bed. The little weak voice in his head was back and his stomach was on fire with shame. Yeah, he wanted Lip to hold him. Jesus fucking Christ, what was wrong with him? Carl didn’t say that though. “No, thanks,” Carl said.</p><p>“What time do you have to be at work tomorrow?” Lip asked.</p><p>“One,” Carl said. Thank god it was later in the day even if it meant another weird five hour shift. Lip nodded and headed upstairs. Carl tried not to feel disappointed. He got underneath the blanket and turned on the TV. He turned it down low to some dumb late night talk show just so there was something in the background. He must have zoned out because he was surprised when Lip was standing over him telling him to “shove over.” </p><p>Carl wanted to ask what Lip was doing but his mouth and brain couldn’t form the words, so he moved over. Lip ended up man handling Carl until Carl was squashed against Lip’s side with Lip’s arm around him while they lay down. Carl at least tried to pretend to be annoyed.</p><p>Lip kissed the top of his head. “I’m proud of you for asking for help.” </p><p>This made Carl’s stomach twist in shame and he turned red. </p><p>Lip sighed into his ear. “That’s a good thing, asshole.”</p><p>“Right,” Carl murmured before squishing himself even closer to Lip and putting his head against Lip’s chest in the space between them, not even trying to act tough anymore. Lip ran his fingers through Carl’s hair. Carl fell asleep clinging to the sleeve of Lip’s t shirt.</p><p>--</p><p>To Sylvia 8:11am</p><p>Hi beautiful. How are you feeling?</p><p>From Sylvia 8:13am</p><p>Beautiful? *eye roll emoji*</p><p>To Sylvia 8:14am</p><p>Okay. Hi ugly motherfucker. How are you feeling?</p><p>From Sylvia 8:16am</p><p>Pretty bad tbh…</p><p>To Sylvia 8:18am</p><p>You call yet?</p><p>From Sylvia 8:20am</p><p>Yeah. Appointment at 5.</p><p>To Sylvia 8:22am:</p><p>No bullshit?</p><p>From Sylvia 8:23am*screenshot of email confirmation of therapy appointment*</p><p>Carl put the phone down on the sofa bed when it lit up again. Debbie fucking texted him again. He swiped it off the lock screen and didn’t bother reading it again. A car door slammed outside and a kid yelled. Carl flinched and felt the prickle of a migraine coming up his neck and hovering behind his eyes. Fuck. He didn’t have time for this.</p><p>He got up and rummaged around his backpack for the imitrex. He stared at it. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to just bite the bullet and take it now or try ibuprofen first. He couldn’t remember what the doctor said. Fuck. He went to the kitchen and took a glass from a cabinet and filled it with water. He decided to just say fuck it and take it now before anything bad happened.</p><p>Tami came into the kitchen with a babbling Fred in her arms. The shower turned on upstairs. He jumped. “Uh, sorry… just needed some water…” Carl mumbled and quickly retreated back to the couch.</p><p>He forgot how spacey and drowsy the imitrex made him feel right after taking it. He’d only taken it a few times before so he still couldn't be sure those effects would fade off in a couple of hours. Carl was just going to lie down for a second. Just a second.</p><p>He listened to Lip come into the kitchen and greet Fred who cooed happily back at his dad. </p><p>“So uh,” Tami said, trying to keep her voice down. She was shit at it though. “Why does your brother act terrified of me?”</p><p>“You’re pretty intimidating,” Lip said with his mouth full of something. Only years of being Lip’s brother made it possible for him to know what the hell Lip was saying.</p><p>“ I am not!” Tami said, astounded. “He’s known me for like a year. Ian isn’t afraid of me. Liam’s not afraid of me. Debbie just doesn’t like me.”</p><p>Carl wasn’t even in the room for this conversation and he could feel himself turning red with embarrassment.</p><p>“Ian isn’t afraid of people. Liam likes you because I like you and he trusts me which is actually pretty fucked… and Debbie doesn’t like anyone anymore, so don’t take that personally,” Lip said. He had paused to stuff something in his mouth again. Carl cringed. That must be a nice thing to look at in the morning. Lip and his big mouth blabbing with mushed up food in it. </p><p>“So I’m just intimidating to Carl?” She asked.</p><p>“Fuck no. You’re intimidating to everyone. You just don’t talk to him enough for him to see he doesn’t have to be,” Lip said in that annoying “I know everything” tone. “Carl doesn’t bite.” Lip laughed to himself. Yeah, ha ha funny Lip.</p><p>“I guess… he’s always depressed and sick as shit. I don’t know what to say to him,” Tami responded.</p><p>Is that really what his family thought he was? Fuck. </p><p>Carl heard Lip sigh like he was bone tired. “Yeah. I know. Just say normal stuff to him. I don’t know.” </p><p>“Hey,” Tami said gently. “He’ll get better. He’s got an arrogant shithead to help him.” </p><p>Carl didn’t know how to feel about hearing Tami comforting Lip about him but he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.</p><p>“Clearly this arrogant shit head isn’t doing a good job of helping,” Lip sighed. “I’m gonna go check on him. You said he was taking a pill?” </p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>Lip did help, what the fuck was he talking about? Carl pretended to be staring at his phone and turned so his back was facing the entryway. </p><p>Lip slid onto the bed and touched his shoulder. “Hey, you awake?” </p><p>“Mhm,” Carl hummed. </p><p>“You feeling okay? Tami said you were taking something,” Lip said, sounding worried. He lightly rubbed Carl’s shoulder. </p><p>“I don’t know. I took the imitrex because I don’t know it felt like something was happening. Now I’m just tired as fuck,” Carl grumbled. He didn’t fucking know, stop asking him questions. </p><p>Lip pushed his shoulder so Carl had to roll over on his back. “It’s not even 9 yet. Go back to sleep. We’ll go over at like 10:30.” </p><p>“Okay,” Carl nodded tiredly. Didn’t have to tell him twice to sleep. He closed his eyes and then squinted at Lip who was running his hand through Carl’s hair like the asshole that he is.</p><p>“Hey Lip,” Carl quietly murmured. </p><p>“Yeah bud?” </p><p>“Thanks for helping me,” Carl said. Lip stared at him for a second and rapidly blinked his eyes. He leaned over and kissed Carl’s hair.</p><p>“Go to sleep.”</p><p>--</p><p>They were waiting for Debbie to come back from taking Franny to school herself for once. Carl wondered if the teacher would even recognize Debbie as Franny’s mom although it was kind of hard not to believe it with the red hair. Carl had already changed into his uniform in case this conversation went on until the time he needed to leave without being late. </p><p>From Sylvia 11am</p><p>Will I see you later?</p><p>To Sylvia 11:01am</p><p>Don’t know. I start work late today. There’s also the latest family crisis… if it’s not too crazy you could come here if you wanted? </p><p>Carl had an image of Sylvia coming over while Debbie was still there when Franny was enamoured with Sylvia. That would not go over well. </p><p>From Sylvia 11:03am </p><p>Ok. Let me know. </p><p>To Sylvia 11:04am </p><p>I’m sorry.  We’ll still talk, okay? Tell me how therapy goes?</p><p>From Sylvia 11:05am</p><p>Save your sorries for when you eat gummy bears in mass quantities in front of me. </p><p>To Sylvia 11:06am </p><p>Hmm… don’t know if I even need to say sorry for that. That’s not in the boyfriend handbook.</p><p>From Sylvia 11:07am</p><p>The girlfriend handbook says so. </p><p>--</p><p>Telling Debbie he didn’t want to be legally responsible for Franny went over about as well as he thought it would. As is in bad. As in Debbie was so mad she probably created a minor earthquake underneath their house. </p><p>“I love Franny,” Carl said. “But I’m not ready to be someone’s legal guardian and I don’t want to be. I don’t mind helping out but I can’t have all of the responsibility when it comes down to it. I just can’t do that.”</p><p>“Can’t or won’t?” Debbie snapped.</p><p>“Both,” Carl said, tiredly. </p><p>“That’s bullshit,” Debbie yelled. “You’re just more interested in your girlfriend than your family.”</p><p>Carl flinched. He knew it wasn’t actually true but he worried it was. </p><p>Lip was sitting next to Carl on the couch. “It’s not, Debs. You decided to have a kid. She’s not a dress you can return. She’s a life time commitment. It’s not fair or right to dump that decision on someone else,” Lip explained, making an effort to remain calm. “You’re the only person you can blame for this situation.” </p><p>Debbie scowled at him and as usual, blatantly shoved the truth over her head. “Well we’re in it now, and someone has to help Franny.” </p><p>“And someone already offered to,” Mickey said angrily. “Ian and I said we would be her legal guardians or some shared custody shit. We told you this yesterday.” </p><p>Debbie rolled her eyes. “And I said I didn’t want you to and that you probably wouldn’t be allowed, considering you’re both fucking felons.” </p><p>“Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’re only one step away from being one too,” Mickey shot back.</p><p>“Mickey!” Ian said, sighing. He looked gently at Debbie. “Why does it have to be Carl? Why don’t you want us to do it?” </p><p>“Why can’t it be Carl?” Debbie countered. </p><p>“He doesn’t want to. He’s only 19 Debs,” Ian explained patiently. </p><p>“I was only 15 when I had Franny,” Debbie pointed out, like that won the argument.</p><p>Carl sighed. “Which you chose to do yourself. Not me. So why am I responsible for your decisions now?” </p><p>“Oh, he speaks again,” Debbie shouted. She glared at him viciously. “You don’t care about anyone but yourself and your next fuck. You’re selfish.” </p><p>Everyone but Carl had shouted something in shock or anger in response to Debbie.</p><p>Carl knew she had said it because she knew it would hurt him, but it still hurt. He wasn’t even angry. Because what if he was selfish? He hated himself too much to be angry. Carl couldn’t help himself and slouched down on the couch, and curled against Lip’s side, hiding his face. Lip put his arm around Carl and rubbed his back. Carl wasn’t crying, but he was shaking. </p><p>“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” Ian said lowly. Carl felt Lip flinch. This was Ian so angry he was calm, calculated, and scary. No one wanted to be on the receiving end of that. It wasn’t pretty. </p><p>Carl peaked out from Lip’s side. Debbie looked confused at Ian’s sudden change in attitude towards her. He was the one being the most patient and forgiving before. Debbie just stared at Ian with her mouth clamped shut. </p><p>“Oh don’t worry Ian,” Tami said sarcastically, glaring at Debbie. “I can tell you. She said Carl is selfish which is so interesting coming from someone who leaves their kid all the time for her brothers to take care of.” </p><p>Carl took his head fully out from Lip’s side in shock. Was Tami defending him? What the fuck? Ian looked at Tami, and she looked at him. Some weird understanding passed between the two of them before Ian rounded back on Debbie. </p><p>“The only selfish person in here is you,” Ian said coldly. </p><p>“I want her to go to Carl because he has the best shot at court and taking care of her. That’s what would be best for her. How is that selfish?” Debbie exclaimed. </p><p>“Because you’re Franny’s mother, not Carl! Because that’s your job! Not his!”  Tami yelled.</p><p>Debbie stared daggers at Tami. “Fuck off Tami, you’re not part of this. You don’t know shit.” </p><p>Tami laughed coldly. Even Lip was staring at her wide eyed in shock. </p><p>“I don’t know shit? Really?” Tami said, advancing towards Debbie. “Well I’m actually here all the time so I know quite a lot. Do you even understand what Carl does for you?” </p><p>This was starting to sound like that conversation where Mickey went off on Debbie about all of the things Carl did for Franny. Carl inwardly groaned but didn’t have it in him to be the person to tell Tami of all people to calm down.</p><p>Tami didn’t give Debbie a chance to respond. “Carl pays for Franny. Carl makes sure there’s someone to take her to school or a birthday party or the doctor. Her teacher calls Carl, not you, when there’s something going on with Franny.” Tami was standing over Debbie now. “And you know what the funny thing about that is? He doesn’t want anything in return. No matter how many times Lip or Ian try to tell him that Carl shouldn’t have to do this. That you should be paying Carl back. That you owe Carl something, he never agrees. No matter how many times someone says to leave your sorry ass to fend for yourself, Carl never lets that happen.” </p><p>Carl pushed his face back into Lip’s side again. He didn’t want to watch this. He wanted to disappear. He didn’t know if he was embarrassed, grateful, angry, or sad about what Tami was saying. Lip tightened his arm around Carl reassuringly. </p><p>“Which, I don’t understand honestly,” Tami kept going, as if this were a conversation she was having with Debbie and not a one sided call out. “But I’m not Carl. You aren’t my sister. But I am someone who has watched him be the most selfless fucking person for you and Franny. I’m someone who has seen how stressed out Carl is constantly about taking care of Franny and worrying about wherever you are, on top of his own shit. So you want to stand there and call him selfish? Try again, honey.” </p><p>“Ian?” Debbie said weakly after a moment of silence.</p><p>“Tami is right. You are Franny’s mother. She is your responsibility. You are supposed to be here raising your daughter, and not going off to do whatever you feel like doing. And Carl is a lot more forgiving than even I am because you keep screwing him over but he doesn’t stop caring or giving or helping because he fucking loves your selfish ass, Debbie. Because he fucking loves Franny. Because he fucking loves his family. I know you’re not around enough to understand that Carl isn’t 13 anymore, but you’re the one worrying about your latest fuck and not your family. You,” Ian said, emphasizing the last part harshly.</p><p> </p><p>The room was deadly quiet. Carl looked out from Lip’s side again. Debbie had sunk numbly onto the arm chair. Ian came over and kneeled in front of her. “So here’s how this is going to work. Mickey and I are going to do whatever it is that Franny needs so she doesn’t end up in the system. We’ll take her on as our responsibility. Mickey and I. Not Carl. If you’ve got a problem with that, I guess you can petition or whatever the fuck it’s called in court, but you don’t have much of a leg to stand on. There’s more than enough people who could testify and provide evidence that you’re never here. And you asked for our help. So you don’t get to choose how you receive it. You can either be on Franny’s side and help her by helping us, or you can go betray your daughter more. You got it?” Ian glared at her. </p><p>Ian stood up. “Our lawyer is going to contact your lawyer today to see how we can get this done.” Ian gave her one last withering glance before grabbing his keys off the hook and slamming the front door. Mickey followed quickly after him. Debbie quietly slunk upstairs, shutting herself in her bedroom.</p><p>That left Carl and Lip curled up on the couch, and Tami sitting on the floor next to Freddie. Freddie had somehow remained calm and enthralled by videos playing on Tami’s phone even with all the yelling, which was a miracle. </p><p>“You okay?” Lip asked softly.</p><p>Carl forced himself to sit up. No. He didn’t want to do this anymore. He wanted out. And that fucking terrified him because he didn’t know if he meant he wanted to run away somewhere or just have all his problems magically poof away or be someone else...or die. What the fuck? </p><p>“I gotta go to work,” Carl said, ignoring the question, and slamming the door. He couldn’t tell anyone what was thinking. He lectured himself all the way on the drive to work. No one could handle that. He didn’t want to upset anyone. They couldn’t know that had even crossed his mind. They fucking couldn’t. And he had to fucking forget that it did and he’d make pure fucking will power work.</p><p>--</p><p>Debbie didn’t leave her room all day and so it was relatively quiet so Carl invited Sylvia over. Carl and Sylvia sat outside on the back steps, watching the early summer sunset. Or that’s what it looked like what’s what they were doing. Carl suddenly wanted a cigarette even though he hadn’t had one in years. Maybe the fact that most conversations out here involved smoking, made him think of it. </p><p>He also really wanted a beer. Maybe later he’d get shit faced when there was no one around to breathe down his neck.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Sylvia said, quietly, but looking at him earnestly.</p><p>Carl snapped out of his musings. “For what?” </p><p>“Being a bitch,” Sylvia said bluntly. </p><p>“Um, okay?” Carl said it more like a question. He’d never really had the thought cross his head in the last few weeks that Sylvia was a bitch.</p><p>Sylvia sighed. “I mean, for the whole being mad at you about therapy.” </p><p>“Oh,” Carl said. He hadn’t even been thinking of that really since the whole thing with Sylvia and her mom happened.</p><p>She stared her hands, picking her fingers. “I’m not saying you don’t need help. You do and I don’t mean that as you’re crazy. I mean that as you’re pretty fucking miserable.” </p><p>“I’m not miserable,” Carl said immediately, without thinking about it. Once he processed what he had said he realized how automatic denying not being okay was for him. He knew he was miserable.</p><p>Sylvia sighed tiredly, like she’d been expecting Carl to say that. “Anyway the point is, that you can make your own decisions about your life and no one should be riding up your ass about them making you feel worse. I guess I was just… taking out my mom’s refusal to understand, or get help, or my whole family’s mess out on you. It’s like I can’t get my parents to do anything from across an ocean. But you’re right here. So I thought I could make it so I could like, save you in a way. Not me personally, but like getting you to someone who could help you.”</p><p>Carl blinked and didn’t know what to say. She put her hand on his thigh. “I don’t want to lose you.” </p><p>This is where Carl was supposed to accept the apology and say something nice back but one question kept swirling around in his mind. He’d been wondering it for a while but now it was like he couldn’t ignore it anymore. He bit his lip. “Um, do you think… do you think we’d still be together if we weren’t both so fucked up?” </p><p>Sylvia frowned. “What?” </p><p>“I don’t know. We got into some heavy shit pretty fast. What if we’re just together so we can have someone know about our shit? That isn’t right, is it?” Carl said.</p><p>“Where is this coming from?” Sylvia asked.</p><p>“I… I don’t know. Why are you still here if all I do is be fucked up? Wouldn’t you rather be with someone less fucked up? Like, what do I even offer you? Nothing. I don’t do anything for you. I’m just here and taking from you,” Carl said quietly.</p><p>She stared at him and xrayed him for a second. “Is this another I’m not good enough for you shtick?” </p><p>Carl blushed. “Sort of. And just a question of if we were not so fucked up and that wasn’t something as important in our relationship, would be even still be together?” </p><p>Slyvia looked out at the yard. It was darker now and lightening bugs were flashing in front of them. She was thinking and Carl waited anxiously for her to talk. </p><p>She turned and forced eye contact. “Okay, first of all, you’re good enough for me. Second, you kinda have a point wondering if it’s even really healthy that half of our relationship revolves around helping the other one deal with their shit, and we’ve only known he each other like four months. But Carl, we do more together than be fucked up and I don’t like you because you’re fucked up. I like you because you’re… you.” </p><p>He stared at his knees unsure what to say. </p><p>“So… you don’t feel like there’s something between us?” Sylvia said slowly.</p><p>Carl glanced up and saw her watery eyes. “No… yes… I mean yes I think there’s something between us. I just..I don’t know anymore. About anything, okay?” Carl said defeatedly. </p><p>“Okay, so do you only like me because my sister is dead and my family is fucked up? Do you only like me because I have a shrink and take pills?” Sylvia asked him, looking at him hard.</p><p>“What? No! Of course not,” Carl said, genuinely shocked.</p><p>“So then why would I only like you because your family is fucked up and you have a bunch of unresolved trauma?” Sylvia countered, eyebrows raised. </p><p>Carl shrugged, and leaned his side against the railing, resting his head tiredly. He stared out into the now dark yard. Sylvia’s hand rested on his shoulder. He moved his head slightly to look at her. She looked concerned. Shit. </p><p>“Um, are you… okay?” Sylvia asked, kind of awkwardly. She breathed out. “I don’t know how to say this but like… you seem more down than usual.” </p><p>“What else do we do together other than be fucked up?” Carl asked instead of answering her. He went back to staring at the old red van.</p><p>She was silent for a moment, probably debating whether or not she should push about him not answering her question. She slid over on the step so they’re shoulders and hips were touching. She leaned on him slightly. </p><p>“Well,” she said gently. “We eat a lot of pizza. You eat a lot of gummy worms.” She smiled at him.</p><p>He gave her a weak smile back. </p><p>“We go to the movies. We play video games. We cook. We talk about all kinds of things from like cars to social issues. We watch TV. We cuddle. We hang out and laugh. I don’t know,” she shrugged. “We do a lot of things people just do. We don’t spend all our time on our problems.” </p><p>He closed his eyes. </p><p>“So am I wrong?” She asked, bumping his shoulder. </p><p>“Not really,” Carl mumbled. They did do a lot of other stuff. It just didn’t feel like that the last few weeks. </p><p>“We haven’t really done anything fun in the last few weeks, though,” Sylvia said, echoing what he was thinking. “We still didn’t do what I wanted to do before you were a super zombie.” </p><p>“The thing you won’t tell me what it is?” Carl asked. </p><p>“Yep,” she said. “We could do it this weekend.” </p><p>“Okay,” Carl said, sitting up more, forcing her to also move a bit. </p><p>He turned his head and looked at her. Their eyes caught and they stared into each other’s eyes, processing the conversation they just had, coming to some sort of unspoken understanding. Carl leaned over and kissed her. They both melted into it. This was the most human he’d felt all day. He didn’t want to stop.</p><p>“Can you guys suck each other’s faces off somewhere else? You’ve been out here for forever. I’m trying to take the trash out,” Liam sighed from behind them in the open doorway.</p><p>“Go out the front,” Carl said, not even looking at Liam before going back to kissing Sylvia.</p><p>Liam stood there for a few more seconds before huffing in annoyance. “You suck,” Liam grumbled before letting the door slam shut.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Part Twenty Eight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Warning: Carl uses alcohol in an unhealthy way.</p><p>Carl and Sylvia finally have their date Sylvia had planned, but one stupid thing pushed something to the surface Carl did not like to think about. Fluff in between.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I actually wrote enough over the weekend to do an update so soon after the other one, which is good because I'm going to be really busy this week so I don't know how much I'll get done. I do work on this every day but sometimes it's just planning or like 100 words thrown on the page.</p><p>I do have this theory that Kassidi could have sexually assaulted Carl, given everything else she does to deny him of autonomy. So that's the thing Carl doesn't want to touch. Maybe I shouldn't give that a way but I'm wondering if anyone else ever thought that was possible.</p><p>Also, sorry, gotta break him a little bit more before he ends up where I want him before heading back up. He's fucking stubborn and I don't think he'd break easily<br/>Thanks for reading, as always!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So you gonna tell me what’s going on with you?” Sylvia asked, holding his hand as they walked down the sidewalk towards wherever she was taking him.</p><p>“Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you?” Carl countered, sticking his tongue out.</p><p>Sylvia rolled her eyes. “Didn’t we just spend 30 minutes talking about what happened at my latest therapy appointment?” </p><p>Carl sighed and looked down. “Fine.” </p><p>“So are you gonna tell me or not” She asked again.</p><p>“Isn’t this supposed to be fun?” Carl asked.</p><p>“We’re not there yet,” Sylvia responded.</p><p>“Yeah but thinking about it is going to ruin it,” Carl said. He really wanted to at least pretend to have fun. He didn’t mean that Sylvia would take him to something boring. He meant he didn’t really feel anything these days except… blah. </p><p>“Or if you stopped holding stuff in, you’d be able to clear your head enough to have fun.”</p><p>Carl stopped walking. “Are you trying to make me mad?” </p><p>“What? No,” Sylvia said, confused.</p><p>“Well you’re doing that thing where you’re pushing and won’t stop,” Carl  scowled.</p><p>She bit her lip and looked guilty. “You’re right. I didn’t even realize… I’m sorry.” </p><p>“It’s fine,” Carl muttered. “Let’s just talk about something else.”</p><p>They finally got wherever the hell they were going. Once inside Carl was surrounded by flashing lights, music, and people yelling. </p><p>“An arcade?” He asked, turning to look at her.</p><p>“Yep,” Sylvia said.</p><p>“This is so fucking cliche...or cheesy… maybe both,” Carl said, smirking at her a little. </p><p>She honestly looked fucking delighted that he was bantering with her again, even if it was kind of weak. Carl felt bad, but he didn’t want to think about that. He wanted her face to look like that all the time. </p><p>“We could go to the art museum and look at a bunch of snotty portraits instead,” she teased.</p><p>Carl rolled his eyes. “Okay so what are we doing then?” </p><p>“You pick,” she said.</p><p>He glanced around. He didn’t want to pick. He couldn’t pick. There were too many choices and what if she didn’t like what he picked and his brain was just checking out in the decision making department. She seemed to have sensed his increasing anxiety, so she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards a game.</p><p>Carl didn’t really know what they were playing, he was too busy watching Sylvia as she dragged him around. He felt himself actually genuinely smiling, and laughed a few times.</p><p>“Are you gonna stop staring at me and pick up the fucking controller or not?” She said, smirking at him. </p><p>He blinked and picked up the controller. He honestly kept losing every game because he wasn’t really paying attention. He wasn’t sure if he could pay attention, even if he wasn’t watching Sylvia be fucking beautiful. Carl’s brain was kinda mushy. He’d used up all of his concentration abilities at work. </p><p>Normally, Carl would have won a lot of the games or made an over exaggerated stink about losing but Sylvia didn’t comment on the fact he was barely paying attention and that he kept losing. </p><p>She shoved a handful of tickets in his hand. “So, what are you gonna buy me?” </p><p>“What?” Carl asked, looking at the tickets in his hand. </p><p>“You get a prize you can buy with your tickets. So, if this is actually going to be a cliche, what are you getting me then?” She grinned at him.</p><p>“Oh,” Carl said dumbly. He didn’t even notice how many tickets there were and what the hell was he supposed to buy her with the tickets. His eyes scanned a bunch of random trinkets. “I don’t know. You pick. I don’t even know how many tickets we have.” </p><p>Carl felt bad. He was not being very fun at all. She laughed and pointed at this ridiculous looking rubber ring that had tentacles coming out of it. Carl felt something crack in him. Fuck. He knew what was coming and he squeezed his eyes shut trying to stop it but he couldn’t. His mind flashed to...</p><p>Holding a ring out to Kassidy grinning, her screaming she’d marry him, him realizing his mistake too late, and he couldn’t take it back or she’d freak out again and…</p><p>“Carl,” Sylvia grabbed his shoulders, and pushed him towards the doors. She handed their tickets to some kid who yelled “sweet!” before running off. He didn’t want to panic. He didn’t want to fucking panic. Okay the whole flashing thing happened and it sucked, and it made him feel like he was on fire but disconnected from his body, but it was okay, he didn’t need to panic. Right?</p><p>Sylvia pushed him to sit on some flower bed ledge and told him to breathe like her. After a minute, any panic that was threatening to claw its way out had calmed down, and everything just ached. </p><p>He blinked, looking around. He didn’t even notice them walking. What the fuck? Also he had just ruined Sylvia’s fun because he couldn’t keep it together for at least one fucking night. He didn’t notice he was scratching his arm until Sylvia pulled his hand away. </p><p>--</p><p>They walked home and Carl kept muttering sorry over and over. He ruined everything. He couldn’t do anything right. When they got back to her house she led them in the backyard which they didn’t usually go in but he was still too busy beating himself up. </p><p>“Carl, if you don’t stop saying sorry for something that’s not your fault, I’m going to tell Franny you want to watch Barbie movies with her this week,” she scolded. It was firm but her eyes were gentle.</p><p>Carl breathed out and took in his surroundings. There was a hammock tied between two trees in the back that usually wasn’t there. “Where’d you get that?” Carl said, gesturing towards it.</p><p>“I found it in a box of stuff that never got opened when we moved. Thought I’d might as well use it,” Sylvia said, shrugging. She carefully climbed onto it laying down and raised her eyebrows at him. “Are you coming?”</p><p>Everything kind of felt like he was under water but he got on with her, and she wrapped her arm around his shoulders. He had to turn in slightly so they wouldn’t fall off, and they tangled their legs together. He threw his arm over her stomach. They laid there just breathing.</p><p>“You wanna talk about it?” Sylvia asked quietly, after a few minutes. </p><p>“No,” Carl sighed. </p><p>She said nothing and they went back to laying there in silence lazily.</p><p>“Debbie wants me to have some sort of shared custody or guardianship of Franny with her,” Carl said quietly into the dark, staring at the chain link fence.</p><p>She didn’t say anything though like she was just waiting. “That’s what was going on earlier,” Carl mumbled. </p><p>She hummed. Carl was getting the impression she was carefully not reacting to anything he said yet. “So why does Debbie want that?”Sylvia asked.</p><p>“Because she thinks CPS is going to try to take Franny in foster care because of her DUI thing,” Carl sighed.</p><p>“I thought she still had like 2 weeks left in jail?”</p><p>“Apparently she was let out for overcrowding and good behavior,” Carl said, holding up air quotes. “Not sure if that’s true or not.” </p><p>“Okay, so why does it have to be you?” Sylvia asked, shifting further down the hammock so they were face to face. </p><p>“I have money. A job. No adult record. I’m a fucking police officer. I’d look great in court,” Carl listed off.</p><p>Sylvia nodded. “What did you tell her then?”</p><p>Carl closed his eyes and felt a hot flash of shame even though he really shouldn’t. “I said no.” </p><p>“How’d that go?” Sylvia asked.</p><p>“Bad,” Carl replied. “She called me selfish.” The pang of hurt from that mixed with his shame made Carl physically squirm like he could get rid of it by shifting. </p><p>Carl opened his eyes and looked at Sylvia, who was sucking in her lips like she was trying to prevent herself from saying something. </p><p>“Look, I can’t… I just can’t be legally responsible for a kid, even if nothing changed day to day. I fucking can’t. I can’t even fucking go out on a date without freaking out and fucking that up,” Carl said, frustrated. </p><p>“I wasn’t going to say you should have said yes,” Sylvia said. “And… I’m sorry, but she’s the one who is selfish here. Not you.” </p><p>Carl nodded. “So I’ve been told...and so has she.” </p><p>“What’s going to happen then?”</p><p>“Ian and Mickey will do it. Apparently they’ve been talking about it for a while which makes a lot of sense now. I was always wondering what the hell they were talking about when they’d talk all hush hush and stop talking when someone walked into the room.” </p><p>“That’s good then, right?” Sylvia asked.</p><p>“Yeah, but Debbie doesn’t like it,” Carl explained.</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“Because they’re both convicted felons, don’t have an actual job on the books. They have their own business but it hasn’t been up and running long enough for it to be really seen as legitimate and stable. They’re gay. Ian’s bipolar. There’s a lot of shit that a court might not see past,” Carl said. He turned his head and looked at Sylvia. “They’d be good with Franny though. They are good with Franny. They do most of the actual caretaking. And I’d still help them so it’s not like everything is going to change where it’s all on them.”</p><p>Sylvia smiled. “Yeah, I think so too.” She laughed a little. “Did you know Franny asked me to play liquor store robbery with her the other day?” </p><p>Carl groaned but laughed a little. “Blame Mickey for that one.” </p><p>“So what’s going to happen then?”</p><p>“Uh, Ian basically handed her, her ass. He said they can either work together with lawyers to make it happen or they could fight with each other with lawyers. Hopefully Debbie actually works with them, but no one has talked about it for a few days. At least not when I’m home,” Carl said. </p><p>Sylvia put her arm over his stomach. “You know that not wanting to have legal responsibility of Franny doesn’t make you a bad person… or brother… or uncle, or whatever… right?” She asked quietly.</p><p>Carl shrugged. “Yeah. My head knows that but…” </p><p>“Yeah, that’s always the problem,” Sylvia agreed, sighing. They lay there silently just looking at each other.</p><p>“You know… you’re really pretty, right?” Carl blurted out and then turned red. Nice going. </p><p>Sylvia started laughing. “Yeah okay, did you get drunk when I wasn’t looking?” </p><p>“No,” Carl rolled his eyes. The longer they laid there talking the more he was starting to feel like himself, like he still existed somewhere inside of him. “Why do you always do that? Aren’t I supposed to think you’re pretty?” </p><p>“I guess,” Sylvia said, turning red. “But you can’t just be with me because I’m pretty.”</p><p>Carl raised his eyebrows. “Oh my bad, I was only with you because you’re pretty,” Carl said teasingly. </p><p>“Hmm, I knew it,” Sylvia said in mock anger before leaning closer and kissing him.</p><p>Carl kissed back and she tried to shift so they weren’t just awkwardly kissing on their backs with their necks turned to each other, but she messed up the balance of the hammock and they fell out.</p><p>After the initial half a second of his brain processing with that fuck had just happened, Carl started laughing. Like really laughing. Sylvia was on her back next to him, laughing a little too. </p><p>“Why’d you do that? That kinda hurt,” Carl asked, accusatory but still laughing. </p><p>She rolled over while saying, “Oh you know so I can do,” she tickled his side, “this.” </p><p>He rolled away from her. He started laughing again realizing they were literally rolling around in the grass. She crawled over to him and started tickling him again.</p><p>“Stop it!” He said laughing in exapseration and because he was being fucking tickled. He almost flipped them so he’d be on top of her and she would have a harder time tickling, but he remembered the one time he’d try kissing her while hovering over her, and she freaked the fuck out. </p><p>He turned and just rolled away a few times more than necessary. Sylvia sat up on her knees. “Okay, okay I’ll stop. Stop rolling around like that, you’ve got grass stuck all over you,” she said shaking her head while smiling. </p><p>“You started it,” Carl pointed out, sitting up so he was cross legged. </p><p>Sylvia didn’t respond but closed the short distance between them by walking on her knees which was also kind of ridiculous. Carl was about to start laughing again but her lips were on his, and he kinda forgot what was funny. He gently put his hands on the sides of her face after a while, and pulled back. </p><p>“Thanks,” he said softly. “For tonight.” </p><p>She smiled broadly at him, and stood up. She held her hands out and he hauled himself off the grass with her help. Sylvia grinned at him conspiratorially again before reaching down and brushing grass out of his hair. He tried to do the same to hers but she ran away laughing. They chased each other like idiots.</p><p>Before Carl left, she pulled him in for a hug, rocking them back and forth. “You’re going to be okay,” she said softly into his ear. </p><p>Carl ignored the wetness in his eyes and tried to get her to stop rocking. “If you make us fall over again…” </p><p>--</p><p>The closer Carl got to the house, the heavier he started to feel. That painfully numb exhaustion was spreading through him again. Carl went through the back door and turned to lock it when he felt someone hug his leg. He looked down and his eyes widened in shock. Franny was hugging his leg, and pressing her face into his thigh. </p><p>“Hey,” Carl said, glancing at the microwave clock. It was after 9. She should be in bed. “What are you doing up?” </p><p>He gently pried her off and she looked up at him with tear stained cheeks. Fuck. He felt his veins go ice cold. He kneeled down so he was eye level with her. “What’s wrong, buggy?”</p><p>She shook her head, her lip trembling. He stood up and lifted her up onto his hip. “You’re getting too big for this,” Carl murmured, bouncing her like she was a baby again. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hid her face on his neck. Carl could feel the snot building up there and tried not to grimace. </p><p>“Where’s Ian and Mickey?” Carl asked. “They didn’t tuck you in?” </p><p>“They did but then they left and I got sad. They were making weird noises so I came down here,” Franny explained.</p><p>“Jesus christ,” Carl muttered to himself. Making weird noises… he’d have to talk to them about that later which he definitely did not want to do. He sat down on the couch with her on his lap. He smoothed her still damp hair from her bath earlier.</p><p>“Why doesn’t mommy love me?” Franny asked in a small voice, fingers digging into Carl’s chest where she was gripping his shirt. </p><p>“She does love you,” Carl said immediately. He was seeing fucking red because what the fuck Debbie, but he had to keep it together for now. </p><p>“Then why does she go away?” Franny asked with big eyes.</p><p>Fuck. Carl didn’t know what to say. This was Ian’s department or even Lip’s. Carl sighed. “I don’t know, Fran,” Carl told her honestly.</p><p>Her eyes dropped and stared down, filling up with tears again. “But hey,” Carl said, lightly putting his finger under her chin and lifting it up. “You know who also loves you?” </p><p>She looked at him shyly. “You?” She said quietly.</p><p>“Mhm,” Carl hummed, kissing her forehead. “Who else?” </p><p>“Uncle Ian and Uncle Mickey?” She asked.</p><p>“You bet,” Carl said, nodding. “And Uncle Lip, Aunt Tami, Uncle Liam…” </p><p>Carl paused for a second realizing he didn’t know where Liam was for a hot second which made him panic before remembering he was at a sleepover. </p><p>“Freddie?” Sylvia asked, looking less sad.</p><p>“Uh, well he’s still a baby Fran, but yeah,” Carl said awkwardly. </p><p>“I love Freddie,” Franny informed him, grinning.</p><p>“Yeah?” Carl said smiling. “You’re a good big cousin.”</p><p>Franny beamed at the praise. “I love you too,” she said before hugging him again. </p><p>Carl felt himself warm all over in all the places he’d been cold in the last few weeks. </p><p>“What about everyone else?” Carl said teasingly. </p><p>“I love them too!” Franny said, completely offended by the idea that she didn’t. </p><p>Carl laughed. “I know you do. I was just kidding.” </p><p>“Oh.” Franny said, frowning slightly at him. She crinkled her eyebrows, thinking. “What about Lester?” </p><p>“Who’s Lester?” Carl asked, totally thrown off. </p><p>“Our class hamster,” Franny said like he should have known this, duh. “Do you think he loves me?”</p><p>“Hmm,” Carl said. “Do you take good care of him?” </p><p>She sat up and puffed a little proudly. “Yeah! It was my turn to feed him this week and Mrs. Hampton said I did a good job.” </p><p>“Oh, then I’m sure he loves you,” Carl told her.</p><p>“Good. Because I love him,” Franny said, still smiling. She climbed off his lap and sat next to him on the couch. </p><p>“You know you’re not alone, love bug? Lots of people love you, okay?” Carl said softly.</p><p>She nodded solemnly at him. He sighed. “Come on, you should be in bed, missy.” </p><p>She groaned as five years old do at being told they had to go to bed but took Carl’s offered hand. He tucked her back into bed. He tried turning away to get the light, but she grabbed his arm. </p><p>“You want a story?” He asked.</p><p>She shook her head. “You’re bad at reading stories,” Franny said bluntly.</p><p>Jesus, kids. Carl almost choked on his own spit. “Yeah, I guess I am, sorry about that.” </p><p>She shrugged. “You’re good at hugs.”</p><p>“You want me to stay with you and hug you while you go to sleep?” </p><p>Franny nodded, and moved over like that would be enough space for a grown man, even a short one. Carl turned out the light. “Sure,” he said, squashing himself against the wall, and hugging her little waist.</p><p>“Go to sleep now,” he whispered. </p><p>Carl smiled slightly to himself while he waited for her breaths to even out. He’d started to feel like absolute horse shit but he still managed to help Franny. He did something right for once.</p><p>--</p><p>He woke up to someone snickering and the sound of a camera shutter coming from a phone. “Yo Ian,” Mickey said. “Come check this out.” </p><p>Carl blinked his eyes open. Jesus. He’d fallen asleep in Franny’s bed. She was still tucked in his arms, drooling on them.</p><p>“Isn’t this fucking adorable?” Mickey said. Carl sat up and saw Ian grinning at him next to Mickey. </p><p>“Oh fuck off,” Carl grumbled, carefully extracting himself from Franny. He stood frozen when she snuffled when she was alone in the bed, but she just rolled over and kept sleeping. Carl wouldn’t be surprised if she slept late. She’d been up pretty late and upset.</p><p>Carl felt his body cracking in places he didn’t realize could crack, and pushed past Ian and Mickey. He stood in the bathroom doorway. “Let her sleep,” he said. “She had a rough night.” </p><p>He shut the door before he could get bombarded with 100 questions. They could fucking wait until he’d fucking pissed first.</p><p>Carl told Ian and Mickey about the night before, almost chugging his coffee. He was fucking tired. Sleeping in a tiny ass bed was not a good night sleep at all. </p><p>“Why didn’t she get one of us?” Mickey asked, frowning.</p><p>Carl gave him a withering look. “She said you were, quote, making weird noises so she left.” </p><p>Ian turned red. Mickey shook his head and scratched his eyebrow with the tip of his thumb. “Shit.” </p><p>Carl sipped his coffee, hiding his smirk.</p><p>“Fucking Debbie,” Ian muttered.</p><p>“Yeah what’s up with the custody thing?” Carl asked.</p><p>“She’s going along with it. We have another meeting with our lawyers again before court later in the week,” Ian said. His leg started bouncing anxiously. Mickey gave him an annoyed look and Ian looked sheepish, but stopped. </p><p>“We’ll uh,” Mickey cleared his throat, getting up. He pulled out a box of poptarts. “We’ll tell her she can come get us even if we’re uh, making weird noises. Give her a special code word or something.” </p><p>“Yeah, you do that,” Carl said rolling his eyes. He put his coffee cup in the sink, and went into the basement.</p><p>--</p><p>Carl sat heavily on his bed and realized with a jolt, he’d forgotten his meds last night since Franny had thrown him off. He sighed. He couldn’t take the xanax now but he could make up his prazosin. He threw down the pill with some day old water on his nightstand. </p><p>Carl threw himself down on his bed and thought about the day before, his date with Sylvia and the whole Franny thing when he got back. His mind flashed to when they had tried to cash in their tickets for a prize. Sylvia wanted a goofy ring. It would have been funny if his stupid fucking mind didn’t just drop images of Kassidi out of nowhere. </p><p>He felt himself get cold like he always did when he thought about her, which is why he didn’t. He had to stop this train of thought, now. There was no way he was touching that with a ten foot pole. Ever. Never fucking ever. It was time to do the only thing he knew would work to make it stop.</p><p>Carl hauled himself up and went to his mini fridge. He hadn’t really been drinking recently so it was still pretty stocked with beer. He pulled one out and stared at it. He looked at his alarm clock. It was only fucking 10am. He looked back at the bottle. What the hell was he doing? Was he actually going to let himself get drunk at 10am on a Sunday?</p><p>An image of handcuffs flashed like a movie over his eyes. Fuck it. He took the cap off and started drinking. Maybe he’d cap it off with smoking later. He didn’t have any weed right now, but Ian and MIckey definitely did. He’d go in their room and snatch some of theirs. </p><p>Carl crawled back on his bed feeling slightly calmer with his fucked up plan in place. He turned on the TV and left it on a channel playing a shitty action movie. The next time he looked at the clock it was 12:30 in the afternoon. There were four beer bottles lined up on the floor next to his bed. He was definitely fucking drunk and he hadn’t eaten anything the whole day. Not drinking for a while really worked in his favor on speeding up the process of getting wasted. Now he was really fucking tired.</p><p>--</p><p>He stirred slightly from sleeping at the sound of clinking beer bottles but didn’t bother opening his eyes to find out who was in the room. Fuck them. He was going back to sleep. He was halfway there when he heard Liam talk near him, and he froze, feeling cold again. </p><p>“Wait, so what happened?” Lip asked, probably standing next to Liam. </p><p>“I kept calling his name to see if he wanted lunch,” Liam said, sighing heavily. “He didn’t answer me. So I came down, and found him like that. I tried getting him up but he didn’t move. I called you.” </p><p>“Fuck,” Lip groaned. “Did something happen this morning?” </p><p>“I don’t know. I just got home from the sleepover like an hour ago,” Liam said, sounding increasingly anxious. </p><p>“It’s alright, bud,” Lip said gently. “I got this. Go upstairs and eat, okay?” </p><p>Liam’s footsteps faded and there was just Lip left. Carl wasn’t sure if he wanted to cry or throw up. He had let his fucking little brother find him like that. After all the shit Liam has seen from almost everyone else regarding alcohol or drugs, he didn’t need to see Carl like that too. Fuck. </p><p>The bed dipped. Lip shook his shoulder. “Carl.”</p><p>Carl tried to pretend he was actually still fully asleep but Lip kept shaking his fucking shoulder and holy shit that was annoying.</p><p>“Go ‘way,” Carl grumbled, turning his face into the pillow. </p><p>“Carl,” Lip persisted. “Come on, let’s talk for just a second. Then you can go back to sleep. Okay?” </p><p>Carl didn’t believe Lip. There was no such thing as talking for just one second with Lip, </p><p>“No BS?” Carl mumbled.</p><p>“No BS,” Lip confirmed. </p><p>Carl sighed and turned onto his back. Lip was looking down at him with a worried expression that Carl had never seen on his face before, at least not directed towards Carl.</p><p>“You drunk?” Lip asked. </p><p>Why was he even fucking asking? He already knew the answer. Carl rolled his eyes. “Mhmm.” </p><p>“At one in the afternoon,” Lip added, like he was trying to confirm facts.</p><p>“If that’s what time it is, yes,” Carl slurred, rolling his eyes again.</p><p>Lip ran his hand down his face. “Jesus,” he muttered to himself. “Why, Carl?”</p><p>Carl scowled at him. This was not one second. “Cuz, I wanted to,” Carl said, like a defiant toddler. </p><p>Lip sighed again and shook his head. “Drink this water and go back to sleep.” </p><p>Carl drank the water spilling most of it on himself before flipping back onto his side and shutting his eyes.</p><p>“We’ll talk again when you’ve sobered up,” Lip said softly, brushing his hands through Carl’s hair. </p><p>Carl squirmed away. “Get off,” he muttered. </p><p>Lip must have thought Carl was totally asleep again because he murmured, “I love you buddy,” before getting off the bed a few minutes later.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Part Twenty Nine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Carl struggles with shit society put on him like masculinity and independence while he continues his break down. He makes a choice.</p><p>***Suicide depiction and mention. SA mention***</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>***Suicide depiction and mention. SA mention.***<br/>Okay sorry, this isn't happy either. I don't even know why I bother saying this because at this point nothing is happy ever in this fic. Not yet.</p><p>You know when someone has been depressed for a while and every little thing feels like a slight that just sends them spiraling into this big pile of hurt and then they act irrationally and everything goes out of proportion...? Maybe that's just me, but that's what this is. </p><p>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The nightmare came back in a new variation.</p><p>Debbie drove a car with Sylvia and Franny in it and crashed it. Ian still had the paintball gun that suddenly turned into a real gun and shot himself, and then it went down the line of Mickey, Lip, and Liam doing the same thing, as usual. Debbie came out of the car and told Carl this was all his fault for being selfish while Franny sat bleeding next to Sylvia in the backseat. Everytime Carl tried to move to help, he wasn’t allowed to move. He was trapped to the one spot, stuck watching everything and being able to do nothing. Debbie kept repeating that it was all Carl’s fault and he was a psychopath who didn’t care about anyone but himself. Carl started screaming at Debbie, Franny, and Sylvia but they didn’t hear him. </p><p>He woke himself up screaming and breathing heavily. Jesus what the fuck was wrong with him? How did he come up with such fucked up images of his family? That must mean he was actually a psychopath, right? No normal person’s brain could come up with this stuff. He wanted to crawl out of his skin.</p><p>After he screamed himself awake, he heard footsteps clatter down the stairs, and a hand gripped his shoulder. His mind raced and he jerked back. His stomach rolled. The nightmare and the amount of alcohol he’d consumed with no food did not mix well. He was totally going to throw up in his lap which would make everything worse because someone was watching him get sick all over himself…</p><p>The little waste basket was placed in his lap before he even had a chance to get sick in his lap. Fuck he really fucked himself up this time.</p><p>“You wanna look at him?” He heard Lip ask. </p><p>“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure he’s just hungover and upset,” Ian said. </p><p>Lip sighed. “I know, it’s just… this isn’t like him, so just fucking humor me.”</p><p>The bed dipped and Carl looked up to a bleary image of Ian’s face. He blinked a few times and it got clearer but it was like everything around him was fuzzy on the edges. Ian reached out and touched his shin which felt like Ian was trying to freeze and burn him at the same time. Carl sucked in sharp breath, and pulled his knees to his chest, backing up from Ian. He wrapped his arms around his legs and tried to focus on Ian’s face.</p><p>Ian put his hands in front of him. “Hey, Carl. You with me?” </p><p>Carl had no idea what that meant but yeah he could hear and see Ian. Ian was right in front of him, so… he gave a sharp nod.</p><p>“Can you tell me what happened?” Ian asked softly.</p><p>Carl was suddenly acutely aware of all the eyes watching him. He looked nervously at everyone’s face and squeezed his arms around himself tighter. Ian carefully watched Carl’s face.</p><p>Ian turned around. “Okay, give him some space.” Ian jerked his head at the steps.</p><p>Mickey and Liam silently went back up the steps but Lip sat down on the bottom of them. Ian and Lip stared at each other in silent conversation, before Ian sighed. Ian got up and went in Carl’s mini fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. He unscrewed it and tried to hand it to Carl but his hands were shaking. </p><p>“Can I…?” Ian asked. Carl nodded again and let Ian help hold the bottle steady while he gulped it down like he’d never have water again. “Slow down.” </p><p>Lip went up the steps and Carl felt abandoned and relieved at the same time. He didn’t have much time to dwell on that because Lip came back down. He handed Ian a sleeve of crackers, and went back to sitting on the steps. Ian opened the crackers and handed Carl one. He ate it slowly, taking miniscule bites, trying to ignore the way his brothers were watching his every move. </p><p>“What happened?” Ian asked again. </p><p>Carl shrugged. He opened his mouth but it was like he couldn’t coordinate his brain and mouth to form words. It felt like his throat was filling up with smoke and he started to panic a little bit. </p><p>“Hey,” Ian said gently but firmly. “It’s okay. Your body just isn’t ready to talk yet. Let’s do yes or no. Shake your head or something,” Ian said. “Okay?”</p><p>Carl nodded once.</p><p>“You have a nightmare?” Ian asked. </p><p>Carl stopped looking at Ian and stared at his knees. He nodded again. </p><p>“Your head hurt?” Ian asked.</p><p>Carl nodded. </p><p>“Migraine?”</p><p>Carl shook his head no.</p><p>“Hungover/I drank too much?” </p><p>Carl hesitated for a second, feeling embarrassed for a reason he couldn’t place before nodding once. It was probably all in Carl’s head but he could fucking feel Lip’s eyes boring into the side of his head like a goddamn drill. </p><p>“Nauseous?” </p><p>Carl moved his hand from his wrist back and forth once, making the “sort of” hand motion. Lip was really starting to annoy him and freak him out. He didn’t want anyone looking at him anymore and he didn’t want to see anyone anymore. They got their answers. They can’t fucking do anything about it, so just leave him the hell alone.</p><p>Carl slid back under the blankets and turned his back to Lip and Ian, and pulled the blankets over his head. He heard Ian sigh and two pairs of footsteps went back up the stairs. Thank fucking god. They were all talking softly and Carl couldn’t hear them but it was definitely about him. They didn’t close the fucking door but at least they had left him alone. </p><p>Someone came back down again. Fuck them. </p><p>“I have some meds for your head,” Ian said. </p><p>Carl ignored him. He heard Ian sigh. “Okay, they’re on the nightstand if you want them.”</p><p>Carl waited a few minutes before emerging from his blanket cave. He took the pills and drank the rest of the water bottle. His phone was on the nightstand too, completely forgotten about since last night from when he’d gone to change quickly after Franny had fallen asleep. When he went to go check on her she was staring at him silently, so he got back in with her.  </p><p>He pulled the blankets back over his head and then dimmed his phone screen as low as it would go before focusing on the notifications. Shit. </p><p>From Sylvia Yesterday 10:09pm:You get home ok?</p><p>From Sylvia 12:01amCarl? </p><p>From Sylvia 12:14amOk you’re probably sleeping sorry.</p><p>From Sylvia 10:55amSeriously. Are you ok?</p><p>Missed Call 12:22pmMissed Call 2:30pmFuck. Carl scrubbed his hand down his face and sent Sylvia a text.</p><p>To Sylvia 4:45pmYeah, sorry. Some stuff came up. Forgot about my phone. Sorry.How are you?</p><p>She answered immediately.</p><p>From Sylvia 4:46pmJesus Carl. I’m fine now that you fucking answered me.</p><p>Carl cringed and wanted the ground to just swallow him whole. </p><p>To Sylvia 4:48pmI’m sorry. I said I was sorry…</p><p>From Sylvia 4:50pmCan I call you? </p><p>Fuck. Carl didn’t want to talk on the phone. He could say no and she wouldn’t call but it would make her suspicious, and he’d already freaked her out enough. The thought of talking made him start to panic again for some reason which freaked him out even more, because what the fuck was that? </p><p>To Sylvia 4:52pmNo sorry.</p><p>From Sylvia 4:53pmAre you ok? And I’m not asking the same question from last night.To Sylvia 4:54pmYeahThe phone was getting blurry. He wasn’t sure if he was crying or just fucked up because he had drank too much like an idiot and it was barely five. </p><p>From Sylvia 4:56pmConvincing.</p><p>To Sylvia 4:57pmDon’t feel good. Going to sleep.</p><p>--</p><p>Carl had forced himself to go upstairs and eat dinner at the table with his family. Lip had looked at him in a way Carl never wanted to be looked at again, and the relief Lip showed made dragging his ass up the steps worth it. </p><p>He didn’t really eat and he didn’t really pay attention to the conversation. He was listless but was getting antsy. He needed to do something other than sit here and mope, trying to pretend he didn’t notice everyone’s side glances at him.</p><p>When everyone was done he hastily announced he’d do dishes and take the trash out, which was incredibly awkward but no one said anything about it. They’d just said thanks and went about their business. </p><p>Carl felt better focusing on the dishes. He zoned out like he used to do at the diner and only thought about what he was doing and nothing else. Dish washing was a shitty job, especially the late shift, but doing the last rush of dishes before people only trickled in and out was always oddly calming to him. He could focus on the dishes without worrying about the next rush, focused on the moment.</p><p>“I wanna play outside!” Franny said from the living room. </p><p>“Okay, can Freddie come?” Tami asked, like leaving Freddie alone in the house while Lip was working on trying to get the bathroom sink to stop leaking, was even an option.</p><p>“Yeah!” Franny said. LIke she was ever going to say anything else. </p><p>Carl followed them outside with the trash bag. He dumped it in the trash and started to go back into the house. The light in the early evening was still surprisingly bright in the summer. It was sticky outside, and it all was making him nauseous again.</p><p>“Uncle Carl!” Franny shouted. </p><p>Carl internally groaned before turning around. “What’s up, Fran?”</p><p>His eyes widened. He had just talked without panicking. Thank fucking god. But he also sounded like a chain smoker. </p><p>Franny tilted her head, looking up at him. “Are you sick?” </p><p>Carl cleared his throat. “Uh, a little bit. But you can’t catch it though.” </p><p>Franny shrugged and grabbed his hand. </p><p>“Franny,” Carl sighed, trying to figure out how to go back inside without hurting her feelings. </p><p>“Come sit at my tea party,” she said looking up at him with big eyes.</p><p>Carl sighed again. If he had just to sit there, then fine. “Okay.”</p><p>Franny smiled and dragged him to the last corner of the yard that faced the street. Carl did not see a tea party at all. It was a pile of sticks, leaves, and random toys they kept outside. He didn’t dare say anything. </p><p>Tami and Freddie had somehow got out of going to the tea party and Tami was blowing bubbles for Freddie to pop, running on his little, chubby legs. </p><p>“You’re not playing right!” Franny frowned at him in frustration. </p><p>“Sorry buggy,” Carl said. He wasn’t exactly sure how he was playing “wrong” though. </p><p>“Where’s Uncle Mickey?” She asked, rolling her eyes at him. Jesus this fucking five year old was going to kill him one day. </p><p>Carl didn’t know. Luckily Tami answered for him, “Uncle Mickey went out with Uncle Ian.” </p><p>“Oh! Like a date?” Franny said, perking up at the idea. </p><p>“Think so,” Tami said. “Uncle Mickey can play tea party with you tomorrow.” </p><p>“Okay,” Franny said. She sighed and looked back at Carl. She turned and went to go play with bubbles too.</p><p> Carl didn’t know a five year old could look at someone with such disappointment. He felt bad. He didn’t know what he did wrong. He wasn’t very good at playing these things. Fuck. “Sorry, Franny,” Carl said again. </p><p>She turned back around and gave him the most scrutanizing look ever, and he was starting to wonder if Franny had some sort of super power because he’d never met a five year old so fucking smart, or able to make you feel like you were a speck of dust. </p><p>She kneeled on the grass and then climbed into his lap with her pointy knees. Carl grimaced. “Fran,” he said. “Ow.” </p><p>She ignored that like she always did when she fucking sat on someone with those goddamn knees. Carl shifted around so he was crossed legged and her knees were on the grass in the space between his legs. Franny reached up and put her hands in his hair, flopping the curls around back and forth. He needed to get it cut.</p><p>“You have pretty hair,” she said. </p><p>“Uh. Thank you,” Carl replied. Tami was smirking at him. Maybe in on another day he’d have flipped her off or something but he just ignored her, too tired to figure out a different response. </p><p>Her hands were pressing the sides of his cheeks. He was pretty sure there was still ketchup on her hands from dinner since Ian had left right after. Ian always remembered that sort of shit.</p><p>“What are you doing?” Carl asked. She was now tracing his face with her pointer finger, currently on his eyebrows, which he pushed down in confusion.</p><p>“You’re sad,” she announced, not answering his question at all, and sat back on her heels, frowning up at him. </p><p>Carl froze for a second. She sounded like Liam. Was he really that fucking miserable looking that everyone around him would just look at him and be like “that dude is fucking sad, how pathetic”? </p><p>She planted the wettest possible kiss on his cheek, and he tried not to grimace or wipe it off. “I kissed it better.” </p><p>Carl’s heart melted. He hugged her. “Thanks bug.” </p><p>He nudged her. “Go play with Freddie.” </p><p>--</p><p>Carl honestly wasn’t sure what they were looking for but Franny had dragged them back outside because she lost something. It was starting to get dark. She walked with her knees bent, inspecting the ground. </p><p>“What are we looking for?” He asked again.</p><p>“The stone,” she said exasperated that she had to tell him this again. Carl was hoping for more of an explanation than “the stone” because what the hell was that? </p><p>He sighed and pretended to look around for “the stone” too. </p><p>“Got it!” Franny shouted happily, holding the tiniest fucking pebble in the palm of her hand. She clenched her first around it and ran back in the house. </p><p>A kid shrieked with delight down the street, Carl jumped like he hadn’t grown up where loud noises were just noise. He looked at the source of the noise. A kid was spraying another kid with a hose, while they ran around. They used to do that when it was hot as kids too but Carl’s mind wasn’t going to images of that. His brain filled with static and white noise. Carl knew what was going to happen, and no no no no no this was not happening no…</p><p>He isn’t sure how long he’s been in the fucking brig and barely remembers how he even got there. Panic claws up this throat, he jerked his head around trying to figure it out. Someone grabbed his arm. Why the fuck was he naked? He got thrown into the corner but his legs were so weak that he almost fell. Someone scoffed. </p><p>“Alright Princess Gallagher.”</p><p>He straightened up and almost fell over again at the force of water being sprayed at him from a hose. It fucking stung and hit his skin hard. </p><p>The water stopped and he was thrown back into the cell along with some clothes. “You’re graduating. But banned from joining the military. Nice going Gallagher. At least you have a good ass to put to use.” </p><p>Wait… what? His heart was at his feet. He did not get this far to just hear that, that had to be a mistake, this had to be a dream, he heard that wrong… there was no fucking way after everything…</p><p>A car door slammed across the street and he was pulled out of the flashback. He looked around like a caged animal, waiting for his vision to go back to the cell at military school. He clenched his fists and brought them into his lap. He had fistfuls of grass in his hands. He looked down. He had somehow ended sitting down on the fucking ground. His back was against the chain link fence. </p><p>Carl felt his chest seize. Holy fuck he was crying, sobbing. He sounded like a fucking dying animal. He put his fist in his mouth to try to stifle the noise but that just made it harder to breathe and he choked on his mucus building in the back of his throat. </p><p>Everything was fucking imploding and he couldn’t stop it. Ian’s bipolar. Carl getting sick all the time. Migraines. All of the stuff coming up from fucking nowhere about his brothers almost dying. Lip’s struggles with drinking. Debbie and whatever the fuck was going on with her. Franny. LIam seeing way too much for an eleven year old kid. All of the flashes of memories. </p><p>All of the shit in the last 2 days alone was enough to make him feel like someone had dropped him in a hole and this was it. This was the fucking bottom everyone kept alluding to and warning him about. Debbie calling him selfish. Being depressed as fuck. Fine, he’d fucking admit it. He was fucking depressed. That flash of a memory about goddamn Kassidi on Friday night. Drinking at fucking 10am yesterday because if he thought about all of that shit with Kassidi he was pretty sure he was going to die. The reality of it would eat him alive or he would just jump off a building from not being able to take it anymore. He could never, ever touch that shit, and it just came into his head when he didn’t fucking ask for it.</p><p>And now here he was. Sobbing on the ground and not even remembering sitting down in the first place. The flash of military school. Never being able to join the military. His Westpoint rejection and how he somehow convinced himself he ever had a shot in the first place. The comment that at least he had a nice ass. He had gotten so fucking far…</p><p>That was the fucking problem, wasn’t it? He got so fucking far, they’d all get so fucking far, and just lose everything. Or almost lose everything, which was even worse. Always having something be one wrong step from being taken from him, his brothers, his dreams, never being able to let his guard down. What was he doing right now  crying on the fucking grass? </p><p>So weak. So weak. So weak. He choked on his own spit and suddenly stopped crying. For once, his brain actually listened to him when it was being weak. He looked back up at the house. It was almost dark outside now. Someone probably started wondering where he was. He didn’t want to go back inside and stay there. Too much shit that was bothering him was attached to the house and he didn’t want everyone breathing down his neck. He didn’t need to add to his brothers’ worry. </p><p>Carl took his phone out of his pocket and hit call on Sylvia’s contact info before he could talk himself out of it. </p><p>“Carl?” Sylvia picked up, voice full of concern. Carl rarely called anyone.</p><p>The words would be stuck in Carl’s throat if he knew what words he wanted to say. He wasn’t used to reaching out to people for help. He did it with Lip recently, but that was also his brother. Lip had been helping him his entire life. Sylvia wasn’t bound to him the same way Lip was which was a problem. If you lean on someone, and they leave, what do you have left? </p><p>“You there?” Sylvia said after Carl had been silent for too long. </p><p>Carl cleared his throat. “Yeah, yeah,” he said roughly. </p><p>“What’s going on?” Sylvia asked. “Are you okay?” </p><p>“I.. can...can I come over?” Carl asked, forcing the words out. He cringed, it felt like something was twisting in his stomach. Something like embarrassment and shame, and fear of being a burden. Fuck. He shouldn’t have said anything. </p><p>“Yeah, of course,” Sylvia said. “You want me to come get you?” </p><p>Not that Sylvia drove but she’d walk back with him.</p><p>“I don’t know,” Carl said, feeling awkward. </p><p>“Are you at home?” Sylvia asked.</p><p>“Yeah.” </p><p>“Okay. I’ll come get you,” Sylvia decided.</p><p>“I...it’s… it’s fine. I don’t need,” Carl wasn’t even sure what the hell he was trying to say but he should back out of this right now. </p><p>“Carl,” Sylvia said firmly but gently. “Shut up.” </p><p>“Okay,” Carl whispered. </p><p>“I’m leaving now. I’ll see you in ten minutes.” </p><p>Carl leaned his head against the fence, and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to think anymore. His mind was racing but he couldn’t grab a coherent thought. </p><p>The gate opening vibrated the fence. Carl opened his eyes. Sylvia was looking down at him like she was trying to figure out what the fuck was going on, before crouching down to his level.</p><p>“Why are you on the ground?” She asked, xraying him intensely.</p><p>“I don’t know,” Carl said, honestly. </p><p>She stood up and held her hands out. He grabbed them and she helped pull him up. Carl shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at the ground.</p><p>“You wanna grab some stuff so you’ve got stuff to wear tomorrow?” </p><p>“Oh, um, okay,” Carl said. He hadn’t really thought about staying over but it was getting later and it made sense. </p><p>--</p><p>Carl sat stiffly on Sylvia’s couch like he hadn’t spent hours sitting on it before. </p><p>“You take your meds yet?” Sylvia asked, holding a glass of water. Carl shook his head and dug them out of his bag. He took the glass and swallowed them. </p><p>Sylvia seemed to be at a loss of what to do which was kind of weird because that was usually Carl’s problem. She always seemed to know what to do even if it wasn’t always right for Carl.</p><p>She touched his shoulder and he relaxed slightly. “What happened?” </p><p>“I…” Carl said, shaking his head. He didn’t really know and he definitely didn’t feel like rehashing the details. </p><p>“You remember something again?” She asked.</p><p>Carl bit his lip and nodded. “I took a nap...and a had a nightmare too, and it was… fucked up.” </p><p>Sylvia nodded. “What do you need?”</p><p>What did he need? A whole new fucking brain? A whole new fucking life? To be someone else? To go back to the way things were before Ian got sick from the bad med combo? Before he fucking lost his mind?</p><p>“I don’t fucking know,” Carl sighed in frustration. What was he doing here instead of at home, getting Franny ready for bed?</p><p>“Why don’t we get ready for bed and then just go lay down? Watch something or just chill?” Sylvia suggested. </p><p>Carl nodded. “Okay.” </p><p>--</p><p>They were tangled together on the bed. Carl was playing with her t-shirt sleeve absentmindedly. He wasn’t watching whatever they were supposed to be watching. He closed his eyes. He just wanted to go to sleep. Sylvia must have caught on and was petting his hair.</p><p>Except it wasn’t putting him to sleep like it usually did. He was completely still but his mind wouldn’t calm down. How the fuck did he end up here? He went through the last five months for probably the 5th time. Ian being sick. Carl being sick. The whole fucking start of this whole damn breakdown or whatever this was. Nightmares. Memories. Lip relapsing. Debbie. Franny. Not being able to sleep. The life being sucked out of him slowly. Panic attacks. Memories. Nightmares. Memories. Nightmares. Drinking. Memories.</p><p>Each thing made him feel heavier and heavier. It all seemed so inconsequential in comparison to the whole rest of his life. Shit was just fucked. That’s just the way it was. But every new thing reminded him of one those weird ant hills they used to show on the TV with the VCR in school. One little grain fell, and another, and another, until the whole thing just collapsed even though the sand was falling slowly. Great. He was comparing himself to a fucking ant hill. This had to stop. </p><p>He abruptly pulled himself away from Sylvia and sat up, his back to her and legs dangling over the side of the bed. Carl breathed harshly. This had to stop. He could not do this anymore.</p><p>“Woah,” Sylvia said at the abrupt movement. She slid over to the side Carl was sitting off of. She folded her legs but kept space between them. “Carl?” She gently prompted.</p><p>Carl felt like he was running but he wasn’t running and he didn’t think he was panicking either. Maybe he was mentally running away from everything and finally realizing how fucking hard it was to breathe while doing it. Maybe if Carl lost his mind more often, he’d have done better in school with all of these damn metaphors he kept thinking of.</p><p>“I...I can’t do this anymore,” Carl admitted lowly, staring at his knees. He heard Sylvia take in a sharp breath. The whole air between them had gone from patient to something else but it didn’t feel good and Carl didn’t know what he did to make it happen. Shit.</p><p>“What does that mean?” Sylvia asked, staring intensely at him.</p><p>“I…” Carl didn’t really know what he meant. He meant he couldn’t deal with being miserable or anything else anymore.</p><p>“Are you thinking about killing yourself?” Sylvia asked abruptly. Her voice was high with anxiety even though Carl could tell she was trying to keep her voice calm.</p><p>He looked at her in pure shock. “What?” </p><p>“Don’t bullshit with me,” Sylvia said harshly.</p><p>“What? Why are you asking me this?” Carl asked, bewildered. He should have just kept his fucking mouth shut. Now Sylvia was freaking out and Carl didn’t get why. As always. Because he was fucking stupid. Stupid. Stupid.</p><p>“Did you hear me?” Sylvia said, snapping her fingers in front of his face.</p><p>He jumped. “Hear what?” </p><p>“I said, that’s something people say sometimes when they’re suicidal,” Sylvia repeated, trying to keep her panicked anger from spilling out.</p><p>“Oh,” Carl said, dumbly. “Wow. Um. I don’t… no. No,” Carl said, slowly, trying to figure out what he was actually. </p><p>“Is that a yes or a no?” Sylvia asked, biting her nails.</p><p>“It’s… it’s a no. I don’t want to be dead. I just don’t want to feel like this anymore and I don’t think I can handle it anymore. I want it to stop, but I don’t want to be fucking dead,” Carl said, clarifying. By the time he got to the end he felt more conviction behind his statement of not wanting to be dead. He was clearer on what he felt. </p><p>She stared at him, holding her breath for what felt like forever. She finally sighed, and said “Okay.” </p><p>“Okay?” Carl said. What? </p><p>“Yeah, okay. I get it. Thanks for clarifying,” Sylvia snapped. Carl flinched. Why was she so mad at him? He didn’t mean to make her upset. Was he supposed to just keep his mouth shut? It hurt. He blinked the tears out of his eyes. He wasn’t going to cry like a pussy. Carl Gallagher does not fucking cry over girls, especially when girls hurt his feelings because he wasn’t in fucking kindergarten. He was pissed. Not sad.</p><p>Sylvia hopped off the bed and went to the bathroom, slamming the door. Carl knew this was a fucking mistake. He’d finally annoyed her so much with his shit that she was mad. He grabbed his bag from the corner of the room. He found his keys and wallet, but not his phone. Fuck. He started shaking the covers but nothing fell out. He whirled around the room glancing at the floor and the surfaces. It wasn’t there either. </p><p>He collided with Sylvia at the bedroom door. He muttered sorry and stepped around her, scanning the kitchen. </p><p>“What are you doing?” She asked. </p><p>“Trying to find my phone,” Carl said, not looking at her. Carl went to the couch and started patting it down. He felt it in between the couch cushions. Finally. He shoved it in his pocket.</p><p>“What’s with the bag?” Sylvia asked, sounding genuinely confused. </p><p>“I’m leaving,” Carl said shortly. </p><p>“What? Why?” Sylvia moving to stand next to him. </p><p>Carl looked up at her incredulously. “Because I’m obviously fucking bothering you!” </p><p>She stared at him, eyes wide. “What?” </p><p>He rolled his eyes. “Don’t bullshit me. You’re smart. You know.” </p><p>He grabbed his shoes and she shoved them on. Sylvia stood in front of the door. Carl glared at her. “I don’t know,” she said quietly. “So tell me.”</p><p>Carl smirked meanly. “Well that’s the problem, isn’t it?” He snapped. “Excuse me,” he said, glaring at her again. She numbly stepped away from the door. </p><p>He got halfway down the porch steps when he heard her say, “Carl.” He wasn’t going to turn around. Fuck this. He wasn’t a baby. He called a fucking girl because he had a breakdown. He was fucking stupid for even having a breakdown. He needed to get it together. </p><p>He started walking back home, a plan forming in his mind. He needed to focus. He needed to focus on shit that actually mattered. Like his job. He hadn’t practiced shooting in a while. Carl felt a surge of energy and he walked faster after coming to his decision. He would grab his gun and just shoot random trash under the el. </p><p>That surge of angry energy quickly died. He felt like he could never move again. Everything was falling apart. He was so fucking stupid to call Sylvia. He was so fucking stupid to call anyone for help. He used to be better than this. This fucking hurt though. He’d trusted her. She’d snapped at him. He dropped to sit on the curb, putting his head in his hands. Carl could go home and grab his gun, and shoot every fucking piece of trash on the Southside under the el and he’d still be like this. He didn’t know how to fucking fix this. But he wasn’t calling anyone. He’d figure this out himself. </p><p>A twig in the crash snapped next to him. He glanced down without removing his head from his hands. Purple shoes. He’d been ruminating so much he didn’t even realize she was following him. Fuck. </p><p>“Don’t,” he said sharply. He wasn’t sure what he was saying don’t to but she was going to either sit down or start talking to him, or both. </p><p>She sat down anyway. “I get it. I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Yeah? What do you think you get?” Carl said tonelessly which clashed with his sarcastic choice of phrasing.</p><p>She sighed. He didn’t take his head out of his hands but if he glanced down or slightly to the side he could see her trying to move around to get some sort of eye contact with him. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. You’re not bothering me. I just… I had a friend. He killed himself. So, anything that sounds like it relates kinda makes me freak out. I get scared and then act mad.” She sniffed.</p><p>Carl was torn. He wanted to comfort her but he was still fucking hurt and mad, and he wasn’t doing this anymore with anyone. He’d take care of himself and get it the fuck together. He was doing this himself now. He had to cut the cord.</p><p>Carl forced himself to look at her dead in the eye. “Yeah, okay. I get it. Thanks for clarifying,” he spat her earlier words back at her. He felt like he had swallowed battery acid. He was fucking hurting her. By choice. What the fuck was he doing? </p><p>Her eyes filled with tears. “I...I’m sorry.”</p><p>Carl felt like he was going to throw up. Christ, he wasn’t a malicious person but he sure as fuck knew how to be. He hadn’t been for a long time. He clenched his hands, his finger nails dug into his palms. </p><p>Her reaction while it had fucking hurt, made complete fucking sense considering what she’d gone through. She hadn’t meant to snap at him. He knew that. Or some part of him did. But that part didn’t matter because the only thing he was from now on was hurt. Then angry. Then independent. That’s what had to happen. </p><p>He stared at her in the eye again, setting his face hard. “We’re done.” </p><p>Sylvia looked like she had just kicked her, and some tears fell down her cheeks. Carl clenched his jaw. That shit didn’t matter to him anymore. He was about to heave himself up and walk away, when she gave him that piercing look she’d been giving him ever since they met. Reading him. </p><p>“Breaking up with me isn’t going to change the fact that you need help. It’s just another way for you to run from your problems,” she stated. She said it incredibly clearly for someone who had tears streaming down their face and kept sniffing. </p><p>Carl stared at her. She caught him. Again. </p><p>At this point he knew he’d just hurt her more than she’d hurt him earlier. And he’d done it intentionally. She was searching her eyes for something and either she found it or didn’t. Her face hardened. “So go ahead, run.” She said coldly, and walked away.</p><p>--</p><p>After multiple attempts from Lip, Ian, Mickey, Liam, even fucking Tami had tried to get into to talk, they’d quickly figured out it was best to just leave him the fuck alone. Mickey had tried the whole “bros shooting shit under the el” shtick. That failed. It had been two days. Sylvia kept calling and texting him. He ignored them. He snapped at almost everyone. He almost snapped at Franny and felt like he was going to die if he made her look hurt. So he started staying out of the house as often as possible. Alone as possible. If he wasn’t there, he couldn’t hurt or bother anyone. </p><p>He was running on pure misdirected anger. Carl knew this wasn’t the answer. He hated himself for doing it. But he felt in control for the first time in a long time. He was in control and he couldn’t lose that again, even if it tore him up and made him just as much of an asshole he’d been when he was younger.</p><p>On day 3, Carl didn’t even bother going home. He shrugged out of his uniform shirt and stuffed it in his backpack. Carl was shooting glass bottles that he’d stacked in a pyramid under the el, relishing the sound when they shattered. </p><p>“This? This is what you’ve been doing instead of answering your phone?” </p><p>Carl jumped, his heart stopping. It was Sylvia. He swore his heart stopped again. She was staring at him with her arms crossed, giving him her piercing look. </p><p>Carl looked away. He clicked the safety back on the gun. He wasn’t going to start shooting shit while she was standing there. He was too good a shot to accidentally hit her, but… if he was going to be an asshole, he wasn’t going to be that much of an asshole… he wasn’t going to be an angry man in front of her at a power imbalance while he wielded a gun. </p><p>He closed his eyes. Fuck he had to stop that shit. He wasn’t going to give a fuck anymore but things like this kept breaking through and it was getting harder to resist… his own… true self.</p><p>She walked over to him and held her hand out. “Let me see it.” </p><p>He stared at her in shock. She was looking at the gun in his hand. No way. He didn’t think she was going to shoot him but did she even fucking know how to use a gun? What the fuck? No fucking way.</p><p>She raised her eyebrows at him. “Oh, you think I don’t know how to use it?” She stepped closer and rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to hurt you. Let me see it.”</p><p>Pure intrigue won out over common sense and he slowly handed it to her. She looked at it, clicked the safety off, felt it around in her hand. She pointed it at Carl’s stack of beer bottles and aimed. She hit the three she shot dead on. She clicked the safety back on and handed it to Carl. He was pretty sure his mouth was hanging open like a dumbass. </p><p>He put the gun in his backpack. He hadn’t said anything to her the whole time and now he definitely didn’t know what the fuck to say. She circled him like a hawk. Christ. He’d fucked up making her mad. This was mildly terrifying. (And hot.) </p><p>“I told you,” she said conversationally. “I grew up in the middle of nowhere New York. Favorite past time in my little town? Shooting guns.” She was looking at her nails. They were painted blue and she was flicking little bits of polish off while walking. </p><p>“So, my dad taught us how to shoot. Took me hunting once but I didn’t like it. I didn’t find shooting fun. Even if it was just at an old soup can,” she kept talking and walking around him.</p><p>Carl stood rooted to the spot and just listened. He was nervous. It felt like she was going to just drop some shit on him that would change everything and he didn’t want to hear it. She was gearing up for it. Walking around him like a fucking vulture. He should just go but he couldn’t get his feet to move.</p><p>“You’re an asshole,” Sylvia said, pausing to glance at him, before resuming circling him. She was playing with a loose string on the bottom of her shirt. Some of her hair had slipped out of her ponytail and was sticking to her sweaty neck from the heat.</p><p>Carl expected her to start listing all the ways he’d been an asshole but she went back to talking about shooting guns in New York. “ I got raped.” </p><p>She fell silent for a second. Carl swallowed hard, heart racing. She shook her hands out at her sides. “And I started going to the shooting range after school. I shot everything that wasn’t alive and was available to shoot. It made me feel better. Powerful. In control. No one could fuck with me when I had a gun in my hand, right?” </p><p>She laughed softly and swiped at her eyes. “It helped. For a while. I guess.” She stopped walking to look at him.</p><p>“And I should be mad at you,” she said, quieter now. “But I’m not. Because even if you don’t fucking care why I freaked out at you that night, I care about why you freaked out at me and I fucking get it. It’s not fucking okay. It’s shitty and it hurts. But I get it. So how long are we going to play this game of avoiding each other just so you can feel some weird sense of control that isn’t even real?”</p><p>Carl looked at the ground and started kicking the dry dirt. It hadn’t rained in a while. He shoved his hands in his pockets. He still hadn’t said anything.</p><p>Sylvia sighed and threw her hands up. “Okay. Fine. Don’t say anything to me.” She glared at him and stepped closer which made Carl gulp for some reason. “You wanna break up? That’s fine. You wanna break up so you can feel powerful and in control? That’s not fucking fine. I’m not a means to your end. Go get help like the fucking rest of us.”</p><p>Carl felt like someone had sliced through him with a sword. Fuck. She was right. Fuck. He was an asshole. Fuck. He hated himself. Fuck. He didn’t know what the fuck was going on anymore. She waited for him to say something but he didn’t.</p><p>“You were right,” Sylvia finally said quietly. She was crying. “You are an asshole. Go fuck yourself.” </p><p>--</p><p>Carl didn’t know what he was doing. He couldn’t sleep. He just kept replaying what happened with Sylvia in the afternoon. He was going for a walk. Until he realized he was walking to Sylvia’s and he thought about changing direction, but couldn’t make himself do it. </p><p>The sky was starting to lighten just barely. The grass was dewy and made Carl’s sneakers squelch. He stopped thinking. He walked up the steps and knocked on the door. No one answered so he kept knocking harder. </p><p>The door flung open and Sylvia glared at him, clearly not pleased with being woken up. Further realization that it was Carl who was doing the knocking did not seem to make her any happier. </p><p>“It’s five in the morning,” she stated. </p><p>“I didn’t realize,” Carl said, biting his lip. </p><p>She rolled her eyes. “Is there a reason you’re here or can I go back to bed?” </p><p>“I… reason,” Carl said awkwardly. He actually didn’t know what the reason was. It was more like he’d just been brought here by his brain without his consent. </p><p>“Okay,” she said. She stepped back a little and Carl thought that meant she was letting him in, but she put her hand out. She stepped back to grab a sweatshirt and then shut the door behind them. She leaned against the railing of the porch. Well, shit, boundary and message heard. </p><p>She watched him warily. Carl fumbled for what to say. “I am an asshole. Never said I wasn’t,” he said. Sylvia’s face flashed annoyance before she schooled it back into the blank look she was giving him, waiting. </p><p>“I...I’m sorry,” Carl said, forcing himself to look her in the eye. Her gaze softened slightly. “I’m sorry about what happened to your friend. I’m sorry for making myself not care even after I understood. I’m sorry for trying to be some big bad dude in control.” Carl laughed derisvely. His eyes watered as if the universe was trying to real fucking get the point across to him. </p><p>Her eyes were watery but she’d stepped away and stood in the middle of the porch with her arms wrapped around herself. He sat on the railing. “I hurt you. And I kinda did it on purpose. Which makes it worse. And I’m sorry. I don’t actually want to break up with you. But after everything, I understand if you want me to just go.” </p><p>He swiped his eyes as tears quickly fell out as he said “just go”. Sylvia was also swiping at her eyes, but was still looking at him extremely guarded. She didn’t say anything. She just stared at him.</p><p>He nodded. “Okay. I get it,” he said slowly, his voice unsteady from crying. “I’ll go. I’m sorry.” He let himself sob for a few seconds and wiped his eyes. He went to slip down from the railing and go home or who knows but Sylvia was suddenly standing directly in front of him. </p><p>She took a deep breath but it was shaky. “I’m sorry too.” She said quietly looking at him and then away, biting her lip. “You were already upset and pushed over the edge and I just got annoyed with you. It’s like I basically threw a rock at you while you were already falling and then you went faster.” </p><p>“Nice metaphor,” Carl said. That was the only thing that came to his mind. </p><p>She smiled a little. “Thanks.” </p><p>Carl finally let go of the thing he thought was control. He let go of the uncaring asshole and feeling himself as just himself was like breathing for the first time again. It was like she sensed she was finally just with Carl, her actual fucking boyfriend, and threw her arms around him. Sitting on the railing made it so he was actually at an equal level with her for once. </p><p>He wrapped his arms around her neck and pressed his face into it, and cried, hard. She held him tighter. She was crying, but more softly. His shirt was definitely getting wet with tears though. </p><p>I’m being a pussy again Carl thought, freezing for a second but then let it go. Who the fuck cared? Their relationship wasn’t anyone’s business and it’s not like they’d ever really followed any gender roles to start with. They didn’t even talk about doing that, they just did it. So if that’s what was right, then fucking fine. He was a 19 year old man. A fucking police officer, sobbing on a girl. And it was fucking fine. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>That's kind of an awkward place to stop because that wasn't written as the end of the chapter, but I didn't want to end the chapter with everyone thinking they'd completely broke up and have to wait a week for me to fix it lol.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Part Thirty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Carl and Sylvia have a never conversation about sex. Carl goes to therapy for the first time.</p><p>There's like 0.5 seconds of smut and allusions to sexual assault in the first part of the chapter.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter literally begins in the middle of the last part of the last chapter.  Right after the last sentence. I know that's awkward but I didn't want to leave the last chapter on a super terrible note, so the scene got kinda split in half in a weird way.</p><p>This chapter is pretty light. I don't know if anyone still reads or they just got tired of me making everything so sad all the time, but that's the story. That kinda sucks but oh well.</p><p>There's like 0.5 seconds of smut and allusions to sexual assault in the first part of the chapter. I don't know how to write smut, so if that 0.5 seconds of it is really bad, I'm sorry.</p><p>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She pulled back out of the hug, his arms still loosely on her. She was looking at him concerned because he wasn’t calming down, and fuck how long had been crying already? </p><p>“What are you thinking about?” She asked, taking his face into her hands, wiping tears with her thumb. The tenderness of it after he was such an asshole made Carl want to cry harder but he really needed to calm down sometime. It was like because he never let himself cry when he was younger, he’d never figured out like everyone else how to fucking stop.</p><p>“I’m a bad person,” he choked. Snot was streaming down thick on his face, and slipping on her wrists. He grimaced and pulled back slightly but she just lightly secured her grip.</p><p>“No you’re not,” she said. “You’re just a fucked up human who doesn’t know how to deal with his fucked upness. Like everyone else. Only some people know how to deal with their shit slightly better. I’m not one of those people either. Can’t we just say we both hurt each other and call it a draw?” </p><p>“Can we?” Carl said, eyes wide. </p><p>“Yeah,” she said and kissed him. </p><p>Carl wasn’t sure what happened as this sort of shit usually goes. Someone made the kiss deeper and then they were making out. His ass was numb from sitting on the railing but he had his arms around her neck again and she kept a hand on his back so he wouldn’t fall off the railing into the bushes. </p><p>They were making out and he was hard. Shit. </p><p>He went to pull back but she just broke the kiss and smirked at him for a second before lightly stroking his dick through his basketball shorts. Fuck. Carl groaned and pressed his face into her neck. She kept going, and it was good, and he was kinda panting because no one had gotten him off in so long and then he froze.</p><p>He put a hand on her wrist and lifted it up. She stepped back, looking at him slightly rejected. “We can’t do this,” Carl said softly. “You said you don’t wanna have sex before. We can’t just do this. We have to talk about it.” </p><p>“It’s not sex,” she said, looking even more put out. “It’s just getting you off.” </p><p>Carl sighed. “When was the last time you did anything remotely sexual?” </p><p>She bit her lip, understanding slowly forming in her eyes. She turned slightly red. “I don’t know… two years?” </p><p>Carl nodded. “So then yeah, that’s going to fall under the realm of sex, Sylvia. And I don’t want you to get me off when we haven’t fucking talked about it.” </p><p>“You liked it,” she said softly, looking shy.</p><p>He grabbed her hands and pulled her closer to him. Why was he still on this fucking railing? At least he was more eye level with her. He wrapped his arms around her waist.</p><p>“Yeah, and I want it too. I want to have sex with you,” Carl affirmed.</p><p>“You wanna fuck me?” </p><p>“Jesus. Well if you wanna be that blunt about it, yes,” Carl muttered. She smirked at him.</p><p>He shook his head slightly. “The point is, we can’t just start doing shit because we’re emotional and we just made up after a huge fight. That’s not the right way to do it. For you. It’s not gonna be the right way to do it. It’s not going to go well because you can’t just dive into this and I’m not letting you until we fucking talk about it.” </p><p>She wasn’t looking at him, and looked really ashamed. Fuck. Carl let himself open the Kassidi door slightly, before slamming it shut and locking it fifty times again. </p><p>“I know that just diving back into it with someone, doesn’t… feel good later. It leaves you fucked up,” he said quietly, forcing himself to say it. “I don’t want that for you. We either do it right or we don’t do it.” </p><p>She slowly looked up at him with wide eyes, mulling over what he said. A shocked and sad look flashed across her face, realizing the implications of what he was saying. “Carl,” she said softly.</p><p>He shook his head.”Don’t. Just...don’t. Please. This isn’t about that.” </p><p>She nodded slowly. “You’re right. We have to talk about this first. Sorry.”</p><p>“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” Carl said softly, wiping a stray tear from her face.</p><p>She smiled. “Ah, there’s the sweetheart I’m in love with.” </p><p>“Thought I was an asshole,” Carl said, smirking.</p><p>“You are,” she confirmed. “You’re also a sweetheart. You can be two things at once.” </p><p>Carl turned red. “Fuck off.”</p><p>She stepped back slightly and looked into his eyes intensely. “Come on Carl, you could have just let me keep going, got off. That’s what most guys do.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah,” Carl said, pushing her slightly so he had space to slide off the railing. “I’m a fucking knight in shining armor.” </p><p>He stepped around her and rubbed his ass. “My ass his numb from sitting on that fucking railing for so long.”</p><p>She laughed. “Your pouting is so cute.” </p><p>Carl groaned. “Okay so I’m cute and a sweetheart but you’re not beautiful, or pretty, or perfect at everything and smart, or a saint for dealing with a fucked up man when that’s not your job.”</p><p>She grinned. “Oh, a feminist.” </p><p>“Stop it,” Carl said. “I’m serious.” </p><p>“Fine,” Sylvia said, throwing her hands. “Everyone must refer to me as Saint Sylvia from now on. Happy?” </p><p>“Yes, Saint Sylvia.”</p><p>“Carl,” Sylvia said as they headed inside. </p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“If you ever fucking wake me up that early again for that much emotional shit, I will kill you.”</p><p>—</p><p>Carl went back to Sylvia’s after work. She was sitting on her porch step holding a glass, peering into it thoughtfully. Carl got closer and she looked up. She put the glass down. It was the glass Carl had put all of the shattered pieces of her teapot in. Shit. She looked kinda sad but smiled at him.</p><p>“Hey,” she said.</p><p>“Hi,” Carl said, shoving his hands in his pockets. He’d come over with a specific purpose and now that he was here he didn’t know how to start. Fuck. </p><p>“What are you doing here?” She asked. “Thought you said you’d text me about tonight.”</p><p>“Right. Sorry,” Carl said, glancing up at her apologetically. </p><p>“Are you okay?” She asked slowly.</p><p>Was he okay? Fuck no. Which was the point of why he came here.</p><p>He took a deep breath. “No,” he said softly. </p><p>She slid over on the step and made room for him to sit next to her. He dropped down and rested his arms on his knees, staring ahead.</p><p>“You still upset about this morning? Because that’s done. We’re fine,” she said softly.</p><p>Carl shrugged. It wasn’t specifically about this morning but that was part of it. “I...I’m gonna go,” he forced out. </p><p>“Go where?” Sylvia asked, confused.</p><p>Carl hunched in on himself and clasped his hands together. “Therapy.”</p><p>It was silent between them which Carl wasn’t expecting. He looked at her from underneath his eyelashes. She was just staring at him.</p><p>“You, uh, gonna say anything?” He asked, feeling awkward. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. </p><p>“You said...you’re gonna go to therapy?” She asked, like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.</p><p>“Yeah,” Carl nodded. “I um… my brother, helped me make an appointment. He’s gonna take me. Make sure I go. It’s tomorrow. Apparently I’m super fucked up and they fit me in.”</p><p>“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Sylvia said. “But...wow.” </p><p>“Yeah,” Carl agreed. “Wow.”</p><p>She bumped his shoulder lightly with hers and grinned. “So is this you finally admitting that me and your brothers were right?” </p><p>He rolled his eyes, and bumped back. “I already knew you were.”</p><p>“You scared?” She asked, sitting so their shoulders were touching with her hand on his knee. </p><p>“Yeah,” Carl breathed out. “Fuck yeah.”</p><p>Sylvia nodded. “Showing up the first time is the worst. It gets easier after that.” </p><p>“Hmm. Lip said something similar,” Carl hummed.</p><p>“Why?” She asked quietly.</p><p>“Why what?”</p><p>“Why did you finally decide to go? We’ve been literally begging you for like five months, Carl,” she said.</p><p>He turned red. “Sorry.”</p><p>She sighed. “No, I didn’t mean… just… why now?” </p><p>Carl swallowed hard and looked at her, eyes swimming with tears. She looked back at him. They had a silent conversation. She nodded.</p><p>“It’s...I still don’t think it’s gonna work,” Carl murmured. </p><p>“Why?” She asked.</p><p>“It’s...kinda a long explanation,” Carl muttered after thinking about it for a moment.</p><p>She nodded and picked up the glass full of pieces again. She rotated it slowly in her hands. Carl put his hand on Sylvia’s shoulder and inclined his head at the cup, silently asking what was up with that.</p><p>She let out a little, anxious laugh. “Just thinking about something from therapy.”</p><p>“You okay?” Carl asked.</p><p>She shrugged. “Yeah. I’m sad. But I’m okay.” She stood up. “Let’s go inside, it’s hot as shit and I’m not listening to your long ass explanation out here.” </p><p>Carl stood up and gave her an unimpressed look. “Way to change the subject.” </p><p>She sighed and opened the door. “There’s nothing really I want to say right now. I’m just thinking. I’ll tell you when there’s something coherent to say.”</p><p>—</p><p>Lip went with Carl to his first therapy session. Carl wanted Lip to come to make sure he actually went but also because he knew he could get Lip to do a lot of the talking. So Lip waxed and waned to the therapist about Carl and Carl was trying not to get annoyed, because this is what he wanted. </p><p>She finally kicked Lip out and Carl sat there awkwardly, clamping his hands between his thighs and looking around the room.</p><p>“So, you’re the youngest huh?” The therapist said. Her name was Kate. Maybe. He didn’t really remember.</p><p>“Um,” Carl looked at her confused. He hadn’t said anything about his siblings. “I have a little brother. He’s eleven.” </p><p>“So you were the youngest for a while though then,” she said, grinning at him.</p><p>“I guess…” He said slowly. </p><p>“I can always tell,” she said, sounding proud of herself.</p><p>Carl wanted to roll his eyes. Now she couldn't. It was a lucky guess. </p><p>“Think that’s bullshit?” She asked him.</p><p>Carl’s mouth dropped for a second before shutting it. “Uh, yeah. Sorry.” He looked sheepish. </p><p>“You looked at your brother when you came in when I asked you what brought you here. He answered for you. He kept talking and you got annoyed, even though you wanted him to talk for you. You looked at him when I called your name and didn’t move until he patted your back and stood up next to you. You sat next to him with your shoulder slightly behind him. You looked scared when she left the room,” She listed off.</p><p>“Uh,” Carl spluttered. He felt awkward knowing she had observed that much and he hadn’t even known her for twenty minutes. “So?”</p><p>“Youngest usually defer to their older siblings when told to do something by someone else. Especially if the parents weren’t around at home,” the therapist explained.</p><p>Carl’s bugged out of his head.</p><p>“Okay, so your parents weren’t around. Youngest want their old siblings to do stuff for them but also want independence and to stop being babied. They want both and both don’t go together. You sitting slightly behind him, is like you were hiding behind him meeting a stranger if you were a kid. He’s the protector. He’s who you look at for what to do. So you’re the youngest,” she concluded. </p><p>“Is this therapy or a magic trick in a fortune teller booth?” Carl said sarcastically.</p><p>“Hm, whichever you want it to be,” Kate responded.</p><p>“That’s dumb,” Carl stated. </p><p>“You stated the question,” she countered. </p><p>He looked at her bewildered. What? What did that mean? </p><p>“Since you’re not gonna tell me about yourself easily, tell me about your siblings,” she said, looking at him patiently.</p><p>He stared at her. She smiled gently. “Come on honey, I’ve been doing this a long time. No one wants to really talk their first time here. And I can always tell who got here after a lot of kicking and screaming. I still learn about you if you tell me about your siblings. You don’t have to exclusively talk about yourself. Win win.” </p><p>He nodded. This lady was fucking weird. “Yeah. Uh okay. I have five.” </p><p>“That’s a lot,” she said, as if she were just saying to prompt him to keep going and fill the silence.</p><p>Either people told him “that’s a lot” or “dude I have 10 siblings” in response to Carl. </p><p>“So list them, oldest to youngest,” she said, sensing he didn’t know how to keep going.</p><p>“Um, okay. Fiona she’s like I don’t know 32? She’s not around anymore. Hard to keep track,” Carl mumbled the last part. “Um Lip, he’s 28. He came with me. Ian, 26 almost 27. Debbie is 21. There’s me. I'm 19. Liam is eleven,” Carl listed.</p><p>“Do you all live together?” She asked.</p><p>Carl nodded. “Well, Fiona’s gone. Lip technically moved out but he’s down the street. His girlfriend and my nephew are over a lot with him. So he kinda half lives there. Ian lives with me. Debbie um, is supposed to live with me. Liam lives with me.” </p><p>“That’s a lot of people in the house,” she acknowledged. She didn’t push Carl about where Fiona or Debbie were and he was glad.</p><p>Carl shrugged. “Lip, Tami, and Freddie don’t really sleep there or always eat there. But yeah I guess… me, Ian, Mickey, Liam, and Franny and occasionally three other people is a lot I guess.”</p><p>“Who are Franny and Mickey?” </p><p>“Franny is Debbie’s daughter. She’s my niece. She’s five,” Carl said, smiling slightly. Carl swore the therapist’s eye glinted at that.</p><p>“Mickey is um,” Carl hesitated. The world had come a long way even the fucking Southside but there were still some circles where if Carl ever let it loose that Ian was gay, his brother and Mickey might end up on a list of people and their family to bash. “He’s Ian’s husband. He’s… I don’t even know anymore. Either the same age or one or two years older than Ian.” </p><p>“So if Debbie isn’t around, and that’s Franny’s mom, who takes care of her?” She asked.</p><p>Fuck. Carl froze. Was this one of those fucking secret questions that would flag them for CPS? Fuck. Kate raised her eyebrows at him. “Unless she’s being abused or neglected, it really doesn’t matter who takes care of her as long as someone does. But she’s part of your family and your life, so it matters for you.”</p><p>This lady should go have lunch with MIckey and Sylvia, somehow always knowing shit he never even said.</p><p>Carl looked at her warily but the longer he avoided the question the more suspicious they’d look even though Franny was safe and cared for, and had it better than any of them ever did. Even without her mom. “We all do. But mostly me, Ian, and Mickey.” </p><p>She nodded. Carl continued, now nervous to prove that their family didn’t need a CPS flag. Again. For actually fucking nothing for once. “We have a system. I kinda handle the scheduling part of it, but um, Ian has started to do it instead because…” Carl felt guilty. Because he hadn’t really been able to focus on it or pay attention lately.</p><p>“Anyway, we have a schedule. Where Franny needs to go, how she gets there. Who is responsible for dinner. Whose turn it is for dishes. Who gets groceries this week. Who has to swap with whom because something came up. Who's paying for what. Mickey and Ian do most of the caretaking stuff. Lip and Tami are on the list too,” Carl rambled. </p><p>“Sounds like organized chaos,” Kate said, but she was smiling.</p><p>Carl shrugged and smiled a little. “Yeah, I guess. An attempt.” He thought of something and pulled out his phone. </p><p>He handed her the phone so she could see the picture of the schedule for this week. She squinted at it. “I can’t even begin to decipher that, even if it were bigger.” She handed it back. “And you created that system?” </p><p>Carl nodded. </p><p>“That’s impressive,” she said. “Takes someone smart and caring to figure that out to that extent and then make it work.”</p><p>Carl turned red. He wasn’t smart. He wasn’t the only reason it worked. He wasn’t the one who was doing half the shit these days.</p><p>She let the compliment sit for a second which made Carl squirm in his seat slightly. </p><p>“So, your parents…” she prompted. </p><p>“My mom is dead. My dad is who knows where,” Carl stated shortly. That was it. That was all it was to him anymore. </p><p>She didn’t push him on it. “Were they around when you were a kid?”</p><p>Carl snorted. “Fuck no.”</p><p>He winced. “Shit, I mean… shoot.” </p><p>“I don’t give a fuck if you curse,” Kate responded. Carl said nothing. “So who took care of you?” Kate continued.</p><p>“Fiona. Lip. Ian. Mostly Fiona and Lip. I don’t know. We all took care of each other. We all did something. Except me honestly. I just blew shit up in the microwave and drove my sister crazy,” Carl said.</p><p>“Yep, you’re definitely a little brother,” she laughed. “And if Lip is basically one of the people who parented you, your interactions make a lot of sense to me now.”</p><p>Carl didn’t know what to say to that so he said nothing.</p><p>“So Lip, tell me about him,” she said. “I’m the youngest too. Well I am, you have one little brother. Give me the dirt on the oldest.” </p><p>Carl smiled slightly. “He’s smart.” He shrugged. </p><p>“Yeah, and?” She prompted knowingly.</p><p>“Annoying and arrogant,” Carl added. She nodded. “He’s good though. He’s a good dad to Freddie. Freddie is lucky. He’s a good brother. He helps.” </p><p>“How does he help?” She asked.</p><p>Carl shoved his hands between his legs again and lifted his shoulders up. “Um, I don’t know. He always has. But… I’ve been… having a hard time,” Carl said slowly trying to figure out how to put it. “And he helps me.” </p><p>“Is that different from the way he usually helps you?” She asked.</p><p>Carl nodded. “Just because I’m different. He would have done it before too.” </p><p>She raised her eyebrow at that but didn’t comment on it. Instead she said, “he loves you.” </p><p>Carl smiled slightly. “Yeah.”</p><p>“You love him,” she stated.</p><p>“Yeah,” Carl affirmed.</p><p>“Okay, our time is up. I have some optional homework for you,” she said. </p><p>“Isn’t homework always optional?” Carl said, smirking.</p><p>“Ha, I see you. Anyway, I want you to write down why you decided to go to therapy. It’s hard to say it out loud. So if you write it, I can read it. Or you can read it to me.”</p><p>“Um, okay,” Carl said.</p><p>“We should probably meet twice a week but I believe you have an appointment with your psychiatrist tomorrow, and we can all decide together as a treatment team.” </p><p>“Treatment team?” Carl muttered under his breath as he walked down the hall back to the waiting room, and back to his brother. Seeing Lip made a rush of relief go through him. He didn’t notice how often that happened until recently. </p><p>Lip nodded at Kate and said thanks. Carl said bye. She said she’d see him soon. It was all fucking weird.</p><p>Lip put his hand on Carl’s back and led them out. Carl put his arm around Lip with his hand on Lip’s shoulder as they walked to the car. Lip stopped and raised an eyebrow at him. Carl just grinned and started walking again. Lip laughed and squeezed Carl to his side for a second. Lip was smart. He knew what Carl was trying to say.</p><p>--</p><p>Carl laid on his stomach staring at the piece of paper in front of him. He really wasn’t into writing. He was bad at it. All of it. Especially spelling. Everyone always pointed it out to him and he just felt stupid. He’d definitely have to read this to the therapist. No need for her to know he was fucked up and dumb.</p><p>What the fuck was he supposed to write? Carl thought back to Sylvia’s question about why he decided to go to therapy. Okay, so he’d write what he’d told her. Pretend it was her. There. Easy.</p><p>
  <i>You know, the first time I watched my brother go in the hospital, I don’t think I had ever been so scared in my whole life. I just turned 13. I had seen a lot of shit. Monica trying to kill herself on the kitchen floor on Thanksgiving. My baby brother with coke on his nose barely breathing, and my sister, our fucking guardian, got arrested. Frank and all the shit he did. So much other stuff. So much. But Ian getting arrested and hospitalized fucking terrified me. All I did was watch him come out one gate of bars and go behind another. Looking like he wasn’t sure what planet he was on anymore.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>You can’t fucking see it, like a broken leg or something. Not really. Not until your brother disappear for 6 months and no one bothers to keep looking for him but you for a while. He comes back like he’s high and makes no fucking sense but he’s fun. And you missed him. He’d always been fun but now he was extra fun and he had been gone for so long. You don’t see it until he doesn’t move for three weeks and wets the bed, and cries while you try to help his boyfriend give him a shower.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Ian was my fucking hero. I mean he still is, but he seemed invincible when I was a kid. He was the cool brother who knew how to shoot and throw knives. He’d steal candy for me. Didn’t tell on me for doing a ton of fucked up shit. He was fast. He was strong. He knew so many things. He was fun. He was a fucking hero and he was going to be one in the army.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>So I don’t know watching him go in there... it’s like I realized he was only a human and I could lose him. For good. He was only human and he was suffering and I couldn’t do shit. He came back from the hospital, and things were honestly probably worse than they were before. I asked him what it was like to be crazy. I said it could be me next. Everyone probably thought if anyone was going to go off the fucking rails like Monica, it would be me. I did. I knew I was fucked up.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>It wasn’t me next. It was Lip and Fiona trading off. Debbie riding a tornado of shit she created... and now it’s me. Took 8 years but now it’s me. Maybe it was always me. Arguably, every Gallagher is fucking clinically insane.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I watched Lip and Ian get help. They’re still fucked up. And how is that fair? What’s the fucking point? I didn’t ask to exist and now I’m stuck with this shit? That I can only get slightly better from? What the fuck? What’s the point? I don’t want to be less fucked up. I don’t want to be fucked up, period. Why put in all of this work and you move an inch before something drags you back 10 feet? I know this is just the way it is. The world fucks you over. So why fight with it if it’s just going to keep fucking you over? Just let it steam roll you into it finally lets you close the curtain, lights out.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>So, I don’t know. The world doesn’t give you a complete do over. I guess I’ll try taking less fucked up. Being this miserable fucking sucks. I don’t remember the last time I was happy. I don’t remember the last time I felt even remotely okay. Months ago? Years ago? I don’t know. I’ll try therapy if it’ll make something hurt just a little fucking less.</i>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And... 30 chapters and over 100,000 words later Carl finally drags his ass to therapy. He's gonna get better.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. Part Thirty One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Carl does his best to deal with news from his appointments but everyone else seems to have a different idea on how he should cope... and won't shut up about it.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>He's trying!</p><p>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Carl stared at the paper in front of him in the psychiatrist waiting room. Lip was dutifully trying very hard not to look at the paper which in a way just made it worse that he was so obviously not looking. It’s not like there was going to be anything on there that Lip didn’t already know but whatever. </p><p>The whole never, rarely, sometimes, often, usually ranking system of every question was driving him nuts. Weren’t what all of those meant subjective? Why were there so many fucking questions? The print was really small and it was hard for him to read and letters kept shifting around on the paper. He sighed in frustration. </p><ul>
<li>
<p>How often have you been bothered by feeling down, depressed, irritable, or hopeless over the last two weeks?</p>
</li>
</ul><p>Fuck. Carl bit his lip hard and circled usually. </p><ul>
<li>
<p>How often have you been bothered that you have little interest or pleasure in doing things over the last two weeks? </p>
</li>
</ul><p>Often.</p><ul>
<li>
<p>How often have you been bothered by trouble falling asleep, staying asleep, or sleeping too much over the last two weeks?</p>
</li>
</ul><p>Carl wasn't sure what to do with that one. He had meds so he fucking went to sleep without nightmares and he’d had a few in the last few weeks. That was an increase in frequency since he started the meds. </p><p>Sometimes.</p><ul>
<li>
<p>How often have you been bothered that you have poor appetite, weight loss, or overeating over the last two weeks?</p>
</li>
</ul><p>Uh, Carl hadn’t even noticed any of this and no one had really said anything to him about it. Someone would have said something to him about it, right? </p><p>Rarely.</p><ul>
<li>
<p>How often have you been bothered by feeling tired, or having little energy over the last two weeks?</p>
</li>
</ul><p>Usually.</p><ul>
<li>
<p>How often have you been bothered by feeling bad about yourself – or feeling that you are a failure, or that you have let yourself or your family down over the last two weeks?</p>
</li>
</ul><p>Ha. Ha. Ha. <br/>Usually.</p><ul>
<li>
<p>How often have you been bothered that you have trouble concentrating on things like school work, reading, or watching TV over the last two weeks?</p>
</li>
</ul><p>Oh shit. He was doing that. Often. </p><ul>
<li>
<p>How often have you been bothered by moving or speaking so slowly that other people could have noticed? Or the opposite – being so fidgety or restless that you were moving around a lot more than usual over the last two weeks?</p>
</li>
</ul><p>Carl wanted to just throw the fucking clipboard. Just write “fucking yes” across the page over all of the questions. Yes. I’m fucking fucked up. <br/>Often.</p><ul>
<li>
<p>How often have you been bothered by thoughts that you would be better off dead, or of hurting yourself in some way over the last two weeks?</p>
</li>
</ul><p>Well, he didn’t actually want to be dead… but he did want it to just… stop. But he didn’t mean dead so what the hell was he supposed to put?</p><p>Sometimes?</p><p> </p><p>Carl got up and handed the whole fucking clipboard with his name, his insurance, his blah blah blah, the fucking page of questions back to the front desk. He sat down and crossed his arms staring sullenly at the wall. He wanted to go home. Lip had suggested, which meant Lip just did it for him, that he get a different psychiatrist after Carl told him about how the guy was nice but seemed kind of out of touch with the current advancement of the world. So here he was is again, starting over. Fuck him. Him being himself and fucking Lip.</p><p>He didn’t even pay attention to the doctor’s name. He answered whatever questions she had at the bare minimum and let Lip do the rest of it. He was handed another fucking piece of paper of questions. At least this time it was yes or no. </p><p>In the past month: </p><ul>
<li>
<p>had nightmares about the event(s) or thought about the event(s) when you did not want to? <br/>Yes. Y. E. S. Hadn’t they already established that?</p>
</li>
</ul><p> </p><ul>
<li>
<p>tried hard not to think about the event(s) or went out of your way to avoid situations that reminded you of the event(s)?<br/>Yes…</p>
</li>
</ul><p> </p><ul>
<li>
<p>been constantly on guard, watchful, or easily startled?</p>
</li>
</ul><p>Isn’t that just… life? Especially on the Southside? Were there people who didn’t actually feel like this all the time? Whatever. Yes.</p><ul>
<li>
<p>felt numb or detached from people, activities, or your surroundings?</p>
</li>
</ul><p>  Yes…</p><ul>
<li>
<p> felt guilty or unable to stop blaming yourself or others for the event(s) or any problems the event(s) may have caused?</p>
</li>
</ul><p>Yes.</p><p> </p><p>Cool. Great. Fucking fantastic. Two shiny diagnoses to go in his stupid chart. Two shiny new diagnoses slapped on his back for his family to stare at. Depression and PTSD. </p><p>His whole fucking life was one big bad event so why the hell does he suddenly now have a disorder because of it? He was fucking fine before. </p><p>New medicine. Amazing. Keep the same old medicine for sleeping but up the dose. Add prozac. It might take a while. Might have to try different antidepressants. No, he would not necessarily be on them for the rest of his life. Just right now to “boost” his brain up from rock bottom. Whatever. He was starting to understand how Ian felt and yeah, holy shit, no wonder the guy didn’t want to take the pills. </p><p>Lip had been asked to leave the appointment after the initial introduction again so Carl came out and just walked past him and stood by the car waiting. Lip came over and fidgeted with the keys. </p><p>“You okay?” Lip asked him when they were both seated in the car.</p><p>Carl just thrust his new prescription scripts at Lip and leaned his head against the window, closing his eyes. </p><p>“Okay, let’s go get them now,” Lip said. </p><p>Carl could feel Lip staring at him. Lip’s hand touched his shoulder and he shrugged away. He didn’t want to crawl in Lip’s fucking lap right now. He just wanted to be left alone. Lip sighed and started the car. Carl didn’t get out when Lip got the prescriptions. He didn’t open his eyes either. </p><p>When they got home Carl wordlessly got out of the car and headed down the basement steps, grabbed some clothes, and headed up the stairs. </p><p>“Yo,” Mickey said, coming out of the room he shared with Ian. Carl bumped his shoulders while passing him. “What the fuck is with you?” Mickey asked. Carl slammed the bathroom door shut. </p><p>He leaned his back against the door breathing heavily, like he’d just had to make a run for it to get the first shower. Mickey’s voice carried up from the kitchen, through the pipes. </p><p>“What’s up with your brother?” Mickey asked, grumpily. </p><p>“Which one?” Lip said. He sounded tired.</p><p>“Piggy,” Mickey responded. </p><p>“Oh,” Lip said, sounding even more tired than he did a second ago. Carl’s stomach twisted with guilt but he quickly masked it over with the angry numbness he was concentrating on filling himself with. “Had a psych appointment.”</p><p>“That bad?” Mickey asked. The fridge opened and closed. </p><p>“I guess. He hasn’t said anything to me since he came out of there,” Lip told Mickey.</p><p>There was a silent beat for a second. “Shit,” Mickey said, heavily. </p><p>“Fucking A,” Lip said. </p><p>Carl turned the shower on and got under it. </p><p>--</p><p>From Sylvia 7:09pm<br/>You still coming over?<br/><br/>Oh. Carl had forgotten. </p><p>To Sylvia 7:12pm<br/>No. Don’t feel good. Sorry. </p><p>Carl put his phone face down on the nightstand. Mickey yelled dinner upstairs. Carl ignored it. He didn’t feel like talking. About anything. At all. Even pass the napkins please. Even if he wanted to, he wasn’t sure if he could. The idea of talking made him feel incredibly anxious. The more he talked the more bad stuff happened. The more he ended up at a stupid fucking psychiatrist. It had been a while since talking was difficult but whatever. Around the track again. He got under the covers and pulled them over his head.</p><p>Footsteps came down the stairs. Great. </p><p>“Hey, I know you don’t wanna come up,” Lip said. “I brought you a plate.”</p><p>Carl said nothing. Lip sighed. “Okay, well I’m gonna leave it here for you.” </p><p>The clank of the plate on the table echoed in the silent basement. Lip’s hand was on his shoulder again through the blanket. Carl rolled away. Lip went back up the steps shutting the door.</p><p>“He won’t even let me touch him,” Carl heard Lip say. He must still be standing by the door. He couldn’t hear the rest of the conversation and he really didn’t want to. </p><p>--</p><p>Carl didn’t go to work the next day. He forced himself to talk on the phone for those few minutes to call out. He’d only gone upstairs to take his meds. So far, he didn’t feel any better or worse. What Carl had read said that Prozac probably wouldn’t hit him hard with side effects, unless it was really not for him.  It wasn’t like Ian’s meds. Ian’s meds were heavy duty shit. </p><p>Someone was coming down the steps again. Holy shit. Did they not see his text to all of them that said “leave me alone”? He rolled over on the bed so his back was to the stairs.</p><p>“Carl?” </p><p>Shit. Sylvia. He was still not going to fucking talk. What if he said something bad and they got in a fight? What if she didn’t like him anymore? She probably wouldn’t like him anymore if he didn’t talk either. Tears stung his eyes for the first time since he’d gotten back from his appointment. He had kept expecting to cry but nothing happened until now.</p><p>The bed dipped and her hand was on his arm. He didn’t have the heart to pull away from her. She was already going to hate him for not talking, no need to add to it. Carl didn’t react though. He just stayed under the blankets and squeezed his eyes shut. He just wanted to fucking sleep. </p><p>She sighed. “Yeah, Ian said you weren’t talking to anyone,” she said, like she was having a conversation with him and responding to something he’d said. </p><p>They sat in silence for a while. Her hand didn’t move. She sighed again. “I have to go to work, just wanted to stop by. I’ll talk to you later.” </p><p>She got up off the bed. “I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but going to the appointment yesterday was the right thing to do. It’s gonna get better from here,” she said gently. She went up the steps and the door shut.</p><p>--</p><p>At some point during the day, Ian had come down the stairs to try to talk to Carl. Ian went on and on about how he’d understand better than anybody what it feels like to get a diagnosis. Carl thought if Ian knew that then Ian would also just shut the fuck up. Did Ian not remember getting annoyed with every single person that talked to him when he came home from the hospital the first time? </p><p>What happened? Ian grew up? Took some fucking meds? Got some therapy? Got married? ...and then forgot everything. What? No one would just leave him the fuck alone.</p><p>From Sylvia 2:34pm<br/>I understand that it’s easier to shut down and you may not be able to completely control it, but Ian just said you won’t talk to him either. We can help you cope with it and figure something out, but you have to let us.</p><p>Great so now they were having conversations on the side about him with his fucking girlfriend. That just pissed him off so he didn’t bother responding. </p><p>From Sylvia 2:45pm<br/>Carl, come on. You don’t even have to talk. Just like get out of your basement hole and sit there with everyone else.</p><p>They were all so fucking annoying and pushy. Jesus fucking christ. </p><p>To Sylvia 2:50pm<br/>You can all leave me the fuck alone if you wanna help.</p><p>From Sylvia 2:52pm<br/>Fine. We’re here when you’re ready.</p><p>--</p><p>Carl sat in the waiting room at the therapist’s office waiting to be called back. Lip was next to him bouncing his leg up and down, and shooting Carl irritated looks. No one said Lip had to fucking come. Carl can drive. Carl knows how to use public transportation. Carl is not a baby. </p><p>Lip was really off put by the fact that Carl didn’t want anyone touching him. He’d gotten used to Carl’s cuddliness lately but Carl was not a fucking baby. For something that was about him, affecting him, his problem… everyone was making it about themselves. This pissed Carl off but the angrier he got the more nervous he got at the thought of talking. He could say something really fucked up while angry and ruin everything. </p><p>Sylvia was probably going to leave him because you can’t exactly date someone who doesn’t interact with you at all. Lip was mad at him. Ian was disappointed. Mickey was trying to stay out of it but be supportive, which Carl appreciated. Liam was scared. Franny didn’t understand what was going on but she’d been easily distracted by the free summer camp they found for her, so she hadn’t dwelled too much on it yet. </p><p>Everyone had fucking feelings about how he was supposed to fucking feel or act. They kept saying he could say how he was feeling when he’d made it pretty fucking clear he was feeling like he wanted to be left alone. He wanted to sort shit out without everyone talking all the damn time. He couldn’t think straight. He didn’t know how he fucking felt because no one was giving him the space to fucking figure it out. Sure, he’d shut down for a bit because he felt like he fucking had to. Now, he didn’t like it, but he was ready to face the facts and figure out how he felt about that BY HIMSELF or at least on HIS TERMS.</p><p>“Carl?”</p><p>Kate was waiting by the door that led back to offices. Carl heaved himself up and scrowled when Lip walked next to him. </p><p>“How is she supposed to know what is going on if you won’t talk?” Lip hissed into his ear. </p><p>Carl wrapped his arms around himself and stepped away. He tried to give Kate a polite smile when they walked back. Lip was huffing like he was the big bad wolf and he was going to blow the house down. Kate was clearly reading the tension off of them while they sat down. Carl sat all the way at the end of the couch, pressing himself into the arm.</p><p>Kate cut right to the chase. “It’s nice to see both of you again. You both are really tense right now around each other. What’s going on?” </p><p>Lip went into his whole fucking explanation of the last few days. He went on and on about how Carl just wouldn’t talk. He talked about Carl’s diagnoses and pills, and who had tried to help him and how Carl was just rejecting all of them. Carl stared at the floor and kept his arms wrapped around himself, gripping his elbows. When he glanced up he could see Kate observing him more than she was observing Lip. </p><p>“I’m surprised he even came today,” Lip said. </p><p>“Okay, thanks Lip for the explanation,” Kate cut him off firmly. “Can I be blunt with you, Lip?”</p><p>Lip furrowed his eyebrows. “Uh, sure.”</p><p>“Great. Just listening to you talk for five minutes has made it pretty clear why, at least part of why, Carl doesn’t want to talk,” she said, staring hardly at Lip.</p><p>Carl froze. This was not going to end well. Lip did not do well with people putting him in his place and he especially didn’t do well with it when it was a stranger doing it. Fuck. </p><p>Lip blinked at her but didn’t seem to be mad, yet. “Uh, and why’s that?” </p><p>“This may have started out as genuine concern and worry for your brother but at this point, this sounds more about you than Carl. Carl’s entitled to processing things the way he wants to. You don’t get a say in that because it’s really not your business,” Kate informed him.</p><p>Carl was pretty sure his jaw was going to be stuck on the floor for the rest of his life. </p><p>“So since this is Carl’s therapy session, I’m going to ask you to leave,” Kate said, staring at Lip, making it clear he shouldn’t argue. </p><p>Lip left the room silently. Kate sighed and looked at Carl. “Okay, so I asked you to do something for me but I’m thinking we can talk about it another time. I think right now you just need space to think. So why don’t you use this space to do that?” </p><p>Carl looked at her confused. Wasn’t the point of therapy...talking? “Therapy is supposed to be what helps you. So if that’s what you want to do that’s fine. You can draw, do a puzzle, bounce a ball, lay down, whatever while you do it. I’m not going to bother you but if you want to talk, I’m always ready to,” Kate explained. “How’s that sound?”</p><p>Carl nodded and gave a thumbs up. She went over to her desk and opened her computer. Carl waited a few minutes but she wasn’t even trying to slyly look at him. Carl pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up, trying to make it cover as much of him as possible, like if he were in bed with the blankets. He glanced around. There was a table with a bunch of paper and drawing stuff. He cautiously got up and went over to it. She had said he could, but it still felt weird just moving around a space that wasn’t his and just doing stuff.</p><p>He picked up a marker and started drawing and thinking. So, honestly, Carl wasn’t really that surprised by his diagnoses. At all. He wasn’t so stupid he didn’t know how to use google and read up on stuff. It was just a lot, to move from “fucked up” to actual words to describe what was wrong. It made it real. He was the next crazy one. It just took 19 fucking years to happen. </p><p>Plus, once there was a name for something, there was probably stuff to do about it… like treatments or whatever. Pills. Therapy. Everyone made it sound so simple. Go to therapy. Swallow this pill. It’ll be better. But there’s actual work involved there and it was daunting. He doesn’t even want to think about this fucked up shit, but apparently the way to deal with it was thinking about it. There was so much shit. So much. So many...traumas. Calling them that felt weird but that was the proper word or whatever now. What happens if there’s just too many to sort through to ever feel remotely okay? Can you just be too traumatized for life? Then what?</p><p>So fuck him for being scared and overwhelmed, and just needing to tune out from the world and himself for a bit. Fuck him for not wanting to talk. Fuck off. </p><p>Kate laughed lightly from next to him. “Nice,” she said pointing at Carl’s paper. Carl had written fuck off in bubble grafitti letters. “Your lettering is really good.” </p><p>Carl looked up and smiled shyly. </p><p>“Sorry, I just wanted to let you know there’s about fifteen minutes left in the appointment. You can keep doing what you’re doing, but if you want to talk about anything, I wanted to be sure you’d have some time,” Kate said.</p><p>Carl bit his lip. He wanted to talk but the idea of it made him feel like he was going to throw up. What the hell was that? That was not good. He couldn’t do this forever. He didn’t want to do this forever.</p><p>He took a deep breath. “Sometimes talking makes me anxious.”</p><p>“How did talking just now feel?” Kate asked. </p><p>Carl stared at his hands for a few seconds before sighing. His voice was stuck in his throat again but maybe… he grabbed a pencil and a piece of paper.</p><p>“Bad. Like I have to puke,” Carl wrote, turning the paper for her to look at.</p><p>She didn’t even react to his sudden change in the way he was communicating. “Hm. Why is that?”</p><p>“I ruin everything when I talk. Say wrong thing,” he wrote.</p><p>“Ah,” she said. “I can see why that would make you feel bad about talking. I’ve got an observation about you, if you want to hear it.”</p><p>Carl shrugged and nodded.</p><p>“You don’t like letting things out. You keep everything locked up. So talking can sometimes make a situation escalate, but it also can bring up stuff you don’t want to think about,” she softly, raising her eyebrows at him.</p><p>Well shit. “Yeah,” he said in barely above a whisper. “Um, what if I’m too...traumatized for life?” He asked, forcing himself to talk a little louder.</p><p>“Too traumatized for life? Like scarred for life?” She said, smiling a bit. Carl nodded. “I’ve never really heard of or met someone who was too traumatized to keep living some sort of life. But let me ask, have you ever really talked about your traumas besides occasionally mentioning they exist?” </p><p>Carl shook his head no.</p><p>“I thought so. That goes back to being anxious about talking. Here’s the thing, when we keep all of our traumas and feelings locked up so tightly for so long, they start to leak out. Trauma affects your whole body and your brain,” Kate said. </p><p>Carl nodded. Yeah. That made sense.</p><p>“So I don’t know if you’re too traumatized for life as you say… but keeping all of them to yourself, and never letting your brain and body release those feelings or thoughts, is what is hurting you. People start to get better when they talk about it, or draw about it, or dance about it, whatever. When it’s all not just in you with no one else knowing, always holding onto it, that’s when life gets hard.”</p><p>Carl took that all in.</p><p>“There’s a lot of science behind this, actually. It’s not just a bunch of mumbo jumbo about hold hands and talk and we will all be okay,” she said, smirking. “I can show you next time.”</p><p>Carl laughed a little.</p><p>“I’m not going to make you talk or any other way of expressing yourself, but think about it. I know it’s scary. But you don’t know if you trust someone until you give them a little bit. Just think about it. Maybe try it. Write a word in those great letters you can make that describes how you feel about something and see how it goes. I don’t know. Just think about it for next time. Okay?”</p><p>“Okay,” Carl said quietly. </p><p>“Okay I’ll see you next week on Tuesday at 4. Maybe giving your drawing to your brother would get your point across?” Kate smirked.</p><p>Carl huffed out a laugh. “Maybe.” </p><p>It came out easily. He didn’t have to force himself to say it. Weird. He’d figure that out later.</p><p>--</p><p>To Sylvia 6pm:<br/>I don’t want to talk. You’re being pushy. It makes me anxious. I don’t like it. It’s not about you. It has nothing to do with you. I trust you. I’m not mad at you. I just want to deal with it how I want to deal with it. Talking about anything makes me really anxious right now. So if you can get behind that and stop pushing me, wanna come play video games tonight?</p><p>From Sylvia 6:03pm<br/>What time should I come over?</p><p>--</p><p>The basement door shut and footsteps thundered down. He smiled a little to himself before turning around.</p><p>“Hey,” Sylvia said, looking kind of nervous.</p><p>“Hi,” Carl said, smiling a little.</p><p>She smiled back but didn’t move from the bottom of the stares, looking around anxiously. He waved his hand at her to come over. She did. She sat down biting her lip while he handed her a controller. </p><p>“Can.. can we… can I talk about it just for a second?” She asked hesitantly. </p><p>Carl nodded slowly. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Sylvia said. “I keep fucking not being pushy up. I’m sorry.”</p><p>Carl shrugged. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “We gonna play? You’re gonna lose.” </p><p>“Oh yeah?” She said smiling with her eyebrows raised. “I don’t think so.”</p><p>She sat so she was sitting in front of his lap, and kissed him. He kissed back before frowning. He pushed back. “Hey, no distractions.” </p><p>Sylvia laughed. “We’re not even playing yet.”</p><p>“So you think,” Carl said, grinning.</p><p>She gave him a weird look and glanced at the screen. “How the fuck do you have so many points already?” </p><p>“I can play this game with my eyes closed,” Carl said. “Or with your big face in the way.” </p><p>“Rude! You didn’t even say we were starting. That’s playing dirty, Carl!” She scowled at him.</p><p>Carl shrugged and held his hands up. He started laughing. “Not my fault you let yourself get distracted.”</p><p>Sylvia huffed and sat back down next to him. She looked annoyed but she was smiling a little. </p><p>“Oh okay,” she said. “I see how it is.” </p><p>They played for a few minutes in silence.</p><p>“Hey Carl?” Sylvia said. </p><p>“Yeah?” Carl said, not looking up from the screen. </p><p>“I ate a gummy bear. It wasn’t bad.”</p><p>“Really?” Carl said, raising his eyebrows in shock. He turned away from the screen. </p><p>Sylvia knocked the controller from his hands and took it, grinning at him. </p><p>“Fuck,” Carl muttered.</p><p>“Of course not. You’re just so easily distracted by food. Not my fault.” </p><p>Carl rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t count as winning if the other person isn't’ even playing against you.” He said, shoving her playfully with his shoulders. </p><p>“Yes it does,” she said grinning.</p><p>“No it does not!”</p><p>She sighed dramatically and threw the controller into his lap. “Better hurry up shorty. I’ve already got half the diamonds.”<br/><br/></p><p>--</p><p>“Are you seriously falling asleep while playing?” Sylvia said two hours later, glancing at him sideways.</p><p>“Meds,” Carl mumbled in explanation. He shook himself a little and narrowed his eyes at the screen. He hit her avatar with a fire ball.</p><p>“We can stop you know,” Sylvia said, rolling her eyes.</p><p>“No,” Carl whined. “I have to win.”</p><p>“Jesus you’re a child,” Sylvia said in fond exasperation. She switched the TV off. He glared at her.</p><p>“Aww, you’re so cute when you’re sleepy and angry,” she teased. She took the controller out of his hand, stood up, and pointed at the bed. “Go, get in.”</p><p>He sighed and climbed on the bed. “You coming too?” He asked, feeling shy for some reason. He’d asked this question a million times. </p><p>She sighed. “I don’t have any clothes.”</p><p>Carl gestured at his drawers. She put on an oversized t shirt and got in next to him. “You didn’t seem too anxious tonight,” Sylvia said to him softly. “How are you feeling?”</p><p>Carl looked at her. She was right. He hadn’t gotten stuck on being scared about talking once they started goofing around. He kind of just forgot about it. He smiled. “Better.”</p><p>“Good,” she said. “Come here.” They tangled themselves in each other and went to sleep.</p><p>--</p><p>Carl sat at the little table he had in the basement. He borrowed Franny’s markers, which he definitely needed to put back before she got back from summer camp. Finding the free summer camp was honestly a life saver. They all weren't sure how they were going to make enough money to get through the summer, let alone start to pad the wallet for winter, if they had to watch Franny or get a babysitter. </p><p>Franny loved it. It distracted her from her mom. She came home tired in the good way. Getting her to go to bed at night was less of a struggle. She didn’t wake up crying as much. She talked about having friends. Carl wished she could stay there forever. She was so happy in comparison to school where she came home looking like a kicked puppy.</p><p>He stared at his graffiti art of “fuck off”, thinking about what his therapist had said. The more Carl thought about it the more it made sense. If you didn’t let yourself deal with something that caused you so much pain, of course your brain was going to fuck you over and push it into the forefront. He had to release something. Small. He could do that.</p><p>He tried to think of something small. There wasn’t anything. Of course there wasn’t anything. Fuck. Okay, maybe a small part of something. But then what happened to the rest of it? Could he even just deal with one little piece of something and leave the rest alone? Or like… an overarching theme?</p><p>Abandoned. Abandonment. Lonely. Alone. There was a fucking theme. His parents. Every school teacher or counselor that didn’t bother giving a fuck beyond his “atrocious” behavior. His siblings and all the ways they almost died. His siblings and all the ways he lost them as they became other people. Ian leaving and coming back crazy. Sylvia was going to leave him soon because he was crazy. He just knew it. She’d already taken so much, how much more could someone take? </p><p>So yeah. Abandoned. She was going to leave him. Lip was gonna relapse. Ian was gonna get depressed and off himself. Liam was gonna be left alone without anyone to turn to except Carl, and that was not a good thing. Debbie and whatever the fuck was happening with her. She was already leaving. If not gone.  Fiona had already left. </p><p>Carl rested his head on his arm on the table, and started drawing. He made the lettering sharp. That’s how being abandoned or potentially being abandoned felt. It was not some dull thing, it was just a constant stabbing of something sharp. </p><p>He looked down at the page. He didn’t really feel like he had released anything but he could take it to therapy, and it could be a start. He was trying. That had to mean something, right?</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. Part Thirty Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Carl goes to therapy, and it sucks, but he's doing it. Carl feels like things are off between him and Ian. Carl and Sylvia discuss sex again.</p><p>**Addiction and death are talked about but no one is dead*</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>**Addiction and death are talked about but no one is dead** If you're this far into the story you already know what I'm talking about lol.</p><p>Seriously, if you are actually still reading this, thank you so much. That's really...flattering? And nice? I appreciate it and the people who keep leaving me comments. The original idea of this fic was never going to be over 100,000 words. That's a lot of words so if you're this far, you've been around a while. Thanks.</p><p>I did write the climax or whatever the other day so there's definitely an end coming, but I don't know how many more chapters it will take. Especially since I'll probably end up with at least two different variations of the climax which informs the rest of the parts before it, and I don't know which one it will be.</p><p>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Wow, this is great. I’m glad you tried it,” Kate said looking over Carl’s “abandoned” letter drawing. “How did it feel?”</p><p>Carl shrugged, turning red at the praise. “I don’t know. I didn’t feel better or worse.”</p><p>Kate nodded. “Well can we use this as a jumping off point?”</p><p>“I guess,” Carl said, not really knowing what that meant. “You mentioned this as an overarching theme. So what do you think of when you look at it right now?” Kate asked.</p><p>He stared at it and chewed on the inside of his mouth. Lip. Right now it was making him think of Lip. He didn’t really want to...talk about that though. Honestly, he didn’t want to talk about anything relating to the word. He barely even knew this lady. She was cool. She kicked Lip out and told him to shut the fuck up in so many words, but he doesn’t know her. </p><p>“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” Kate said, reassuringly. “But like I said before, if you want to establish trust you’ve got to give me something to trust me with. This drawing is a good start.”</p><p>Carl sighed and bounced his leg for a second. “My brother. Lip.”</p><p>“The one that comes here with you sometimes,” Kate prompted.</p><p>“Yeah, the one that doesn’t shut the fuck up,” Carl smirked. </p><p>“Why him?”</p><p>“Um, well, he’s an alcoholic,” Carl forced out. “He had one slip up a few months ago but he’s been sober for a while now. I think he still struggles though.” </p><p>Kate nodded. “Unfortunately, struggling is just part of the game. Addiction doesn’t just go away. The good thing is, he’s not the only person in the world struggling with the same thing.”</p><p>Carl hadn’t really thought of it like that before. I mean, he knew that AA meetings helped or whatever the fuck but he’d never looked that far into it. Lip did better when he went. That’s all he cared about.</p><p>“So is he struggling now?” Kate asked, nudging him back towards talking after a moment of thinking.</p><p>“I think so,” Carl said, frowning. He rubbed his hand through his hair. “He’s been weird for a few days. I tried asking him about it but he didn’t really answer me. His girlfriend, or whatever the hell she is, the mother of his child, always has this look when she’s nervous about him drinking. I said I’d take Freddie for a few hours tonight. So they can sort shit out or whatever.”</p><p>“That’s helpful of you,” Kate commented. Carl shrugged, feeling awkward. “How old is Freddie?”</p><p>“Almost two,” Carl responded.</p><p>“That can be a rough age,” Kate said.</p><p>“I was 8 when my brother was born. My sister has a kid that’s been living with us since I was 14. I’m used to babies and kids growing up. Every age is a rough age,” Carl muttered. </p><p>Kate raised her eyebrows at that but didn’t comment. “So Lip’s drinking triggers a sense of abandonment?” She steered the conversation back to the main topic.</p><p>“Uh,” Carl didn’t really think of it like that. Well he did just not so, bluntly. “I guess.”</p><p>“How long has he been an alcoholic?” Kate asked.</p><p>Carl was confused by the change of direction back to talking about other people but whatever. He’d rather answer questions about other people. “Um, probably his whole life,” Carl huffed a laugh. “But it didn’t really get bad until like 7 years ago.”</p><p>“That’s a long time. You’re still young. So you grew up with his addiction.”</p><p>“Yeah sure,” Carl said, getting tired of talking. </p><p>“That’s a lot of time to cause situations where abandonment was possible or felt,” Kate said, ignoring his irritated tone.</p><p>“Yeah well, he had his stomach pumped four times. He fucking almost died in front of me when I was 15 and I was the only one home with him. He went to college and came back a drunk because my sister lost her fucking shit and got put in jail,” Carl snapped.</p><p>His eyes widened. Well that was a lot that just came out of his mouth. </p><p>“So you feel like he left you alone when he went to college and it ended up being for nothing because you were still losing him when he came back,” she summarized.</p><p>Carl stared and his jaw dropped. He snapped it shut. “Uh, I didn’t say that. But, yes.”</p><p>“It’s my job to read subtext,” Kate said as an explanation. </p><p>Whatever the fuck that meant. “I don’t want to talk anymore,” Carl said. </p><p>“Thanks for letting me know. Your session is almost up anyway so it works out,” Kate said. “You shared a lot even though it was hard for you. That’s brave.”</p><p>Carl shifted uncomfortably. He wasn’t fucking brave. He was a scared shitless adult who didn’t know what the hell he was doing. Could he leave yet? </p><p>“That was good work,” she said while putting her glasses on to look at her calendar. “Thursday at 4 still okay?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Carl said. </p><p>“Okay, see you then.”</p><p>Yeah, Carl thought bitterly. See you then. Carl all but ran out of there.</p><p>--</p><p>Three weeks had gone by since Carl started the new medicine and going to therapy, and he was… cautiously optimistic. He knew it took at least two weeks to see effects of medicine but he thought maybe the prozac was working but it could all just be in his head. Either way, he felt...better. Every single thing didn’t make him spiral into a vat of negativity, which meant he spent a lot less time feeling guilty.</p><p>Things were going pretty well with Sylvia. They hadn’t really had any major emotional blowouts lately. They still had bad days, but it was about their own personal shit and not their collective shit. Sylvia had been stressed out about finding money for school and some stuff with her parents. Carl was going to therapy and that dredged up so much shit, so he wasn’t always perky either. They’d just been doing a lot of sitting around watching stuff and playing video games, and just existing together. They didn’t always talk about what was going on with them. It was nice.</p><p>Family shit was always the same family shit except things had been kind of tense between Carl and Ian in the last few weeks. Ever since Carl got his diagnosis and the whole thing where Ian tried to get Carl to talk but he didn’t, things had been weird. He wasn’t sure if Ian was mad at him. Or he was mad at Ian. Or if it was both. If it was something else. He didn’t know. He never really had problems with Ian so that honestly made Carl more upset. He started spiraling worrying about if this was the way things were going to be, if he was going to lose Ian. If Ian hated him. </p><p>They weren't screaming at each other. To someone on the outside, they seemed fine. They talked and joked with the rest of the family, but anytime they were alone together, Ian left the room. Carl had been meaning to talk to Ian about it but things just kept getting in the way. Carl was at work or therapy. Ian was at work or the doctor or putting Franny to bed. Ian had a hypomanic episode last week so he was asleep a lot, which meant there was no way Carl was having a conversation with him.</p><p>Therapy...therapy sucked. Carl had decided that his therapist didn’t suck though, so that helped make up for it. Kate had tried to get him to talk about the time Lip almost died in front of him, but Carl wasn’t for it so they’d moved on. They’d been working through Carl’s nightmares. That was kind of what started this whole mess and Carl had to explain why he was having them, not just that he was having them. Which kind of just circled back to Lip almost dying anyway. She kept pointing this out to him that maybe that was a sign from his body that he needed to deal with it in some way, or some other bullshit. He kept refusing and she didn’t push beyond pointing it out to him. </p><p>Regardless, talking about his nightmares and everything else sucked. It was awful. He always left pale and shaky, feeling sick. It didn’t feel like it was doing anything. This week had been particularly rough. Everything was fucked. Not just his head.</p><p>Carl automatically responded “good, how are you?” when Kate asked how he was as they walked to her office. He sat down heavily. His head hurt. He’d taken the meds before coming but they didn’t seem to be doing shit and it didn’t hurt that badly yet. So maybe it was just a normal headache.</p><p>“Carl?” Kate said.</p><p>“Yeah?” Carl said, turning to look at her. She was looking at him like Sylvia did when she’d been talking and he hadn’t heard any of it. Shit. </p><p>“You hear anything I just said?”</p><p>“Uh, no. Sorry,” Carl said sheepishly. He was too far up his own head today and things always got a little foggy when his head hurt.</p><p>“Are you alright?”</p><p>Carl shrugged. “My head hurts a bit.”</p><p>“You mentioned that can be triggered by stress. You seem pretty stressed right now. What’s going on?”</p><p>“Everything,” Carl grumbled.</p><p>“What is bothering you the most?” Kate asked. “Start there.”</p><p>“Um, Franny. The whole situation with Franny. The home visit is any time this week. We’re all freaking out, which is funny because it’s probably the safest in our house that it’s ever been. Ian is all tense and we still haven’t really worked things out. Ian and I don’t usually have problems for this long. He’s probably heading for another episode, which will not help his case for Franny. Maybe I should have just fucking agreed to do the whole guardianship thing. I-”</p><p>“Pause.” </p><p>Carl stopped talking, realizing he was out of breath.</p><p>“You’re worried about your niece and things working out for her. You’re worried about your brother but things are still awkward with him. A lot of these outcomes are out of your control. Except for one.”</p><p>Carl sighed. “What? Talking to Ian?”</p><p>“Yep. Why haven’t you?” Kate asked.</p><p>“I don’t know. He’s been doing other things. He’s not really around me,” Carl mumbled.</p><p>“So you feel like he doesn’t care about you anymore and if you don’t talk to him your suspicions can’t be confirmed… or denied,” Kate inferred.</p><p>“I didn’t say that,” Carl snapped.</p><p>She could tell they weren’t going to get anywhere with that for now. “What else is going on?”</p><p>“Sylvia and I don’t see each other as often anymore. She picked up extra hours at her job because she needs money for school. Her shifts are usually when I’m done with work. Oh and work, fuck. They put me with a new partner for training for more intense shit and she’s awful. I don’t like her,” Carl vented.</p><p>“Why don’t you like her?” Kate asked.</p><p>“She made a lady strip...for saying fuck the police. She stopped the lady for selling loosies. My brother used to buy from her. She took the lady’s wig and then stepped on all her cigarettes. It was fucked up,” Carl said. “I tried to say something but my partner said ‘no, she’s gonna learn’. Learn what? That she deserves to be humiliated for selling fucking cigarrettes?” </p><p>“It sounds like that really upset you,” Kate commented.</p><p>Carl felt a flash of irritation. “What? It’s not supposed to upset me? It was totally unnecessary and fucked up!”</p><p>“I didn’t say it shouldn’t upset you. I reflected back that you were upset which you just told me,” Kate said, studying him.</p><p>“Whatever,” Carl muttered and sank back on the couch with his arms crossed.</p><p>“Why wouldn’t I think you shouldn’t be upset?” Kate pushed.</p><p>“I don’t know,” Carl mumbled.</p><p>“Yes, you do,” Kate said.</p><p>“How would you know what I know and don’t know?” Carl yelled. Shit. What happened if you yelled at a therapist? </p><p>She didn’t flinch. “Because we talked about this before,” she said calmly.</p><p>“Talked about what?”</p><p>“Questioning being a police officer. You were offended I thought you didn’t care like your partner. You’re worried about the perception the rest of the world has of you,” Kate.</p><p>“We never talked about that,” Carl said, angry.</p><p>Kate sighed. “I can find it in our session notes if you want.”</p><p>Wait. What?</p><p>“You take notes on me?” Carl said, feeling weirdly betrayed.</p><p>“All therapists do that,” Kate said, watching Carl’s off put reaction. “Carl, I have a lot of patients. They all tell me a lot of stuff. If I don’t write notes after we’re done I’m not gonna remember everything we talked about. It’s just to keep track of what we talk about. I’d be a terrible therapist if I didn’t take some sort of notes.”</p><p>Carl’s skin felt itchy and like bugs were crawling on it. He scratched his arms. “Okay, fine,” Carl responded in a huff.</p><p>Kate didn’t say anything. She was intentionally waiting for him to make the next move. Was this all a fucking game?</p><p>“I’m not doubting anything about my job either,” Carl said. “You made that shit up.” </p><p>Kate raised her eyebrows at him. “Okay,” she acquiesced. </p><p>“Okay,” Carl muttered back sarcastically.</p><p>“You’re very irritated with me today,” Kate pointed out. </p><p>“Hate to break it to you, but you’re irritating,” Carl snapped. </p><p>“I don’t think it’s me that you’re really irritated at. I’m just the safe stand in to direct it at,” Kate said, calmly.</p><p>Carl rolled his eyes. “Good for you. You’ve got it all figured out. With your books and degrees and now you think you know everything. You don’t.” Carl stood up. “I’m out.” </p><p>“You still have fifteen minutes left,” Kate pointed out.</p><p>“Well enjoy your fucking break then,” Carl growled, and slammed the door. </p><p>He sat in the car. What the fuck did he just do? He rested his arms on the steering wheel and rested his head on it. This is exactly the fucking problem. He’d thought maybe talking wasn’t such a bad thing but it was. Because that happened. He acted like a jackass and she was being a bitch. </p><p>--</p><p>Carl came up the stairs and there was no one else in the kitchen but Ian, chopping vegetables. It was unusually quiet too.</p><p>“Hey,” Carl said. “Where is everybody?” </p><p>“Mickey’s at the store, Franny’s still at camp, Liam is at that rich kid’s house, Lip and Tami are wherever,” Ian listed off nonchalantly.</p><p>“Oh,” Carl said. He awkwardly stood there, shifting around with his hands in his pockets. Now would be the time to talk to Ian. Carl had told himself in the car he wouldn’t talk to anyone anymore but this rift between him and Ian was going to drive him crazy.</p><p>“Are you okay?” Ian asked, looking slightly amused with his eyebrows raised.</p><p>“Yeah, why?” Carl asked.</p><p>“You look like Franny trying to hold her pee in,” Ian said laughing.</p><p>Carl huffed a small laugh for Ian’s benefit. Carl was so confused. This was normally how things were with Ian. Had he made the last few weeks up? </p><p>Carl went up to the counter seat and watched Ian rummage around the fridge. He cursed and texted something. Probably to Mickey about not having something they needed. Carl nervously drummed his fingers on the table.</p><p>“So um, can I, uh talk to you for a second?” Carl asked haltingly. At least he had said it. </p><p>Ian put his phone down and leaned against the counter looking concerned. “Yeah, what’s up?” </p><p>Fuck. Now what? Carl went back to drumming his fingers on the table. </p><p>“Carl?” Ian asked, when Carl still hadn’t said anything. He looked more worried now. “What’s going on?”</p><p>“Are you...mad at me?” Carl said in a voice so low it was almost a whisper. </p><p>Ian drew his head back and wrinkled his eyebrows. “Am I mad at you?” </p><p>Carl nodded his head. </p><p>“No...why would I be mad at you?” Ian asked slowly. He looked like he genuinely didn’t know. </p><p>“I don’t know. You were kinda annoyed with me when you tried to talk to me about the whole diagnosis thing the other week. You always leave the room when I come in it and it’s just us. You don’t really talk to me anymore,” Carl blurted out.</p><p>“What?” Ian asked shocked.</p><p>Carl felt tears prick his eyes. He shook his head. “Just forget it,” Carl said standing up.</p><p>Ian stepped in front of him. “Hold on a second. I’m not mad at you. I wasn’t annoyed with you. I didn’t realize I was leaving the room and not talking to you. You’re not really home much recently. When you are it seems like you need space so... I’m so confused right now.” </p><p>“So you’re just saying this is all in my head?” Carl asked, getting angry. </p><p>“No, I’m saying I didn’t realize I was doing that so I’m just confused. I don’t remember doing that. I’m not saying it didn’t happen, it’s just…” Ian trailed off, looking embarrassed.</p><p>“Just what?” Carl asked, tone bordering between irritation and gentleness because Ian just looked humiliated right now. </p><p>Ian rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, I don’t have the best self awareness when I’m manic. Even hypomanic. I kind of forget to pay attention to other people’s reactions. Apparently I’d been manic for like a whole week before anyone noticed it. So if I did something to upset you, I probably don’t remember it. But I’m still responsible for it and I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Oh,” Carl said, taken aback. “Okay. I understand.” How did he not fucking noticed that? He just automatically assumed it was all about him when it had nothing to do with him. He was so fucking selfish. He was a terrible brother. Carl hadn’t spiraled down a negative thought hole in a few weeks which made it worse because why he couldn’t stop it? What was wrong with him?</p><p>“Honestly, Mickey and I have been kind of distracted and not really present because we’ve been trying to figure out this guardianship stuff with Debbie but she’s not exactly making it easy,” Ian sighed.</p><p>Now Carl felt even more like an ass. Your brother is hypomanic and stressed out from a legal situation? And you think he’s mad at you? Nice going, Carl. </p><p>Ian studied Carl’s face. “What’s wrong? What did I say to you?”</p><p>Carl shook his head. It didn’t matter. Ian was manic. It wasn’t his fault. Ian already seemed embarrassed enough about the whole thing, he didn’t need to pile on. “Nothing, don’t worry about it.”</p><p>“It doesn’t sound like nothing. Just tell me,” Ian said, crossing his arms.</p><p>“Um, well I don’t know. You didn’t exactly say anything bad. It was just… not very you-like and it wasn’t helpful, and it hurt but I’ve just been way too sensitive lately,” Carl rambled, trying to avoid the rest of the conversation.</p><p>“You can tell me what I said. I can handle it,” Ian said gently but also looked slightly annoyed that he was being treated with kids’ gloves. </p><p>“You kept saying how you were the best person to talk to because you knew better than anyone else in the house what it was like to get a diagnosis. You kept fucking pushing it too. You didn’t want to talk to anyone either when you got yours, so it made me mad. I thought you were gonna be the one person who might get it and you weren’t,” Carl said, looking down. This was dumb.</p><p>Ian grimaced. “Yeah, manic me is very uh, arrogant. You’re right I didn’t want to talk to anyone either and everyone trying to talk to me made me mad. Bud, I’m sorry.”</p><p>Carl shrugged. “It’s fine. I was just being dumb.”</p><p>Ian sighed. “No you weren’t. I’m sorry I said that.” He ran his hand down his face. “I’m sorry I’ve been so distracted by everything with Franny.”</p><p>Carl tapped his fingers on the counter again.</p><p>“Do you want to talk about it?” Ian asked.</p><p>Kind of. It would be nice, but not right at this second. “No, not right now. Thanks.” </p><p>Ian nodded. “The home visit is this week. Unannounced.”</p><p>“Fuck,” Carl said. </p><p>“Well, I mean, we should be fine right? This is the safest it’s ever been in here,” Ian said, trying to smile.</p><p>“Yeah,” Carl said. “We’ll be fine.” </p><p>Nothing was ever fucking fine for them.</p><p>Carl grabbed his sneakers from the door. He was on edge. Everything made him feel bad about himself or someone else, and it didn’t even make any rational fucking sense. </p><p>“Where are you going?” Ian asked curiously.</p><p>“A run,” Carl said. He was going to run into his legs burned so much that he stopped feeling it.</p><p>--</p><p>“Sylvia?” Carl asked softly. They were laying in bed together with the windows open all the way and all of the fans going, desperate for some sort of relief. Carl wasn’t even under any blankets and they weren’t cuddled together. It was too hot. But Carl was on his side playing with her hair. The streetlight was coming in through the window slanted across the room, illuminating part of the bed. It was quiet and still in that weird way that was summer late at night. In between people going to bed and the partiers coming out to make noise.</p><p>“Hmm?” Sylvia said, opening her eyes and turning her head to look at him.</p><p>“You… been, seemed really sad the last few days,” Carl said softly. “Not that we’ve seen much of each other but on the phone and stuff too.”</p><p>“Sorry,” she said, turning her head and staring at the ceiling. </p><p>“Are you okay?”</p><p>She sighed. “Well, you already said it. I’m sad.”</p><p>“Why? What’s going on?” Carl asked, pushing up on his elbow to look at her sweaty face.</p><p>She threw her arm over her eyes, and tears leaked out from underneath it. Every time she cried Carl felt like his heart was shattering. </p><p>“I can’t...I can’t talk about it right now,” Sylvia said, unsteadily. </p><p>“Okay,” Carl said easily. “What can I do to help?”</p><p>“I’d say hug me, but it’s too fucking hot,” Sylvia laughed wetly. </p><p>“I don’t care,” Carl said seriously. “Come here.”</p><p>“I’m all sweaty.”</p><p>“So am I,” Carl countered. She rolled off her back to face him and he pulled her towards him. She kept crying making his already wet from sweat shoulder, even wetter, but at least she was crying and he could hold her while she did it. </p><p>After a while she sniffled. “Can...can I tell you about it when I’m ready?” She asked hesitantly. </p><p>“Of course,” Carl assured her. He kissed her hair.</p><p>She sighed. “Thanks… you’re always so good at that and I really fucking suck at it.”</p><p>“At what?” Carl asked.</p><p>“Letting people talk when they’re ready. Not being pushy,” she said, sounding slightly ashamed.</p><p>“Oh,” Carl said. He didn’t know what to say to that. “You’re uh, better at existing.” Wow. That sounded ridiculous but as soon as it was out of his mouth he realized how true it was. She was better at dealing with things. He just lost his mind.</p><p>She laughed and pulled back, leaning on her elbow to look at him. “What?”</p><p>Carl shrugged. “You handle everything so much better. You always know what to do.”</p><p>“Yeah, and I’m going to wake up tomorrow five inches shorter,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I don’t handle anything well, come on.”</p><p>“I think you do,” Carl said quietly. She said nothing. “So if you do wake up five inches shorter tomorrow, what are you going to do?” </p><p>She laughed. “Probably cry. Being so close to the ground is probably really difficult.” </p><p>Carl lightly wacked her arm. They rolled away from each other. “Holy shit, it’s hot,” Carl groaned. Like she didn’t already know.</p><p>“We could stand in the shower with the water on the coldest temperature,” she said. “It helps for like, five minutes but it’s nice.”</p><p>“We?” Carl asked, raising his eyebrows.</p><p>She turned red. “Well not if you’re gonna look at me like I’m crazy,” she muttered.</p><p>“No… it’s just… you know, people are naked in the shower right?” Carl said. </p><p>She sat up. “Yes, Carl. I know people are naked in the shower,” she deadpanned, rolling her eyes. </p><p>“But isn’t that… we’ve never stood naked next to each other,” Carl pointed out turning red. “You really ready to do that?”</p><p>“We’re not having sex,” Sylvia stated. “It’s not like I’ve never seen you naked. We’re dating. So, why are you so hung up on being naked? Are you not like comfortable or… because that’s fine. We don’t have to do anything.” </p><p>“I just thought… you’d be, more… unready,” Carl said, realizing he sounded like a fucking idiot. </p><p>“Well if you keep talking about it like we’re gonna go set off a bomb together, then yeah, maybe not,” she huffed. “I fucking suggested it. You’re the one being weird about it.”</p><p>“I was trying to make sure you were okay,” Carl grumbled. “But fuck me for caring.” He flopped back on his back and closed his eyes.</p><p>“I know,” she said softly. “Thanks.” </p><p>Carl kept his eyes closed but hummed lightly in acknowledgement. </p><p>“You ever notice that you have more hang ups about things that could be remotely sexual than I do?” She asked quietly.</p><p>“What?” Carl said opening his eyes. “I do not. You don’t want to have sex.”</p><p>“Yeah, I do,” Sylvia said. “You just stop it every time it goes slightly further. Which you’re allowed to do and is fine,” she rushed to add awkwardly.</p><p>“Because I don’t want you to do something you aren’t actually ready for and be upset later,” Carl said. “Why are you so mad that I want you to be sure? That I want you to actually fully consent?” </p><p>“I don’t think that’s really for me. I mean it is, but I think it’s more for you,” she said softly. “But you’re right that I should be ready.”</p><p>Carl pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Don’t. Okay. Just don’t.”</p><p>“Okay, she said softly. And didn’t say anything else which was rare.</p><p>“Thanks,” he said. He cleared his throat. “What time is it?” </p><p>“Uh, 1:30,” she said.</p><p>“Christ. It’s so hot even my meds won’t knock me out so I can sleep,” Carl said, irritated.</p><p>“That might have to do more with the like five cans of coke you had at dinner,” Sylvia said, smirking. </p><p>“I had like two,” Carl said indignantly.</p><p>“No, it was five,” Sylvia laughed. “Do you want me to go count the cans out of the recycling?”</p><p>Carl rolled his eyes. “Shit.” He sat up. “So, is the whole shower thing off the table now that I made it awkward?” He said, joking nervously.</p><p>“Nope,” Sylvia said, getting up. She took her underwear off and her threw her large t shirt back on the bed. She ran to the bathroom without looking back.</p>
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